Shreds and Scenes

Every year, I told myself to bring flowers instead. Those white ones I know where they are sold cheapest, down the street where florists sell in bulk. Be it roses, or daisies. Oh yes I should get those white daisies; their petals perfect for the bouquet, green stalks, leaves. It has always been a significant day to remember, yet I told myself everyday is a day to remember because what is eternal stays alive deep inside. And I said, flowers are good because they look pretty in a bouquet sitting quietly on the backseat of the car; with the morning sunshine illuminating droplets of water; be it dew or sprayed droplets, on the plastic sheet, the white petals,the green leaves.

I would have been alone talking; going along without any drawbacks, conversations maybe, and I presume I would be happy to be given the liberty and freedom of so. I would have allowed myself to explore my memory, to expand on things I barely remember, or things I never forget. Or I would have talked of all my problems, troubles, worries; even I know they will not invite any solution. Unilateral may be yielding no reply, but there is effort, and I know that in each inch of effort, is my sincerity and willingness that's what that matters. It had mattered to you of who am I, and I would want myself to live towards that presumption.

So I want to be alone and bring along that bouquet of daisies. They would have been dried and died the next time I come by, or most probably, someone will dump the fresh bouquet before I could even say goodbye.