. . . and the flowers continued to bloom, but they were ugly now. Tiny buds struggling to shine through the snow, but the shine never came. The blooms just appeared, pale in comparison to their former glory. A smile, a laugh, a tear, a sob and then . . . nothing but emptiness. Now, all the blooms just appeared transparent and devoid of beauty. The jonquil I treasured so long ago is dead now, and soon all the new flowers will die alone too. I wonder where they go when they disappear completely. . . I wonder if they are beautiful where they go. . .
©2013 Relinda R.