I walked into the room and smiled, no matter its minimal furnishings, it felt cozy and warm; it always felt cozy and warm, as long as the flower was there.
I breathed in the soft headiness of the blossom’s sweet perfume as it permeated the air; like an essential oil whose scent lingers, lurking in corners, swirling around as though carried upon a gentle breeze, and tickling my nose as it whispered on by.
The flower that had once shone brightly with vibrant colour, now sat faded to a soft milky white with still a hint of the glory it had once been; pure and true, its beauty no less stunning as it graced my eyes. Like all flowers, its uncomplicated enchantment had been easy to admire in every stage of its bloom.
As though light emanated from delicate paper-thin petals, it cast a glow that illuminated the room with its soft haze, filling every nook and cranny, warming the atmosphere, and drawing me towards it like a ship to a beacon; I could not resist the need to touch its lacy fronds, clutch it in my grasp.
With outstretched arms I reached out to cup the delicate blossom in my hands, while petals so fragile, enfolded me like delicate wings, wrapping me in warmth, protecting me, comforting me, showering me with love; and I wanted to be wrapped in its delicate strength, hugged close to its central core and protected within its precious embrace for all time.
This flower is the sunshine in a cold room, the voice of comfort when all seems lost, hope for a blossoming future. This flower can chase the blues away, express regality and simplicity, dignity and grace, joy and sorrow.
And this flower, will always be, pressed between the pages of my heart, forever preserved in my memory, its ever-present existence a thing of beauty, filling glorious chapters within the book of my life.