By: Anya Kane, Freshman
The breeze lifts her hair off her shoulders, the blonde bob twisting and turning in the summer air.
The sweet smell of sunflowers and forget-me-nots fill my senses.
She raises her arms to smell a towering sunflower.
Sunflowers, adoration. Zinnias, everlasting love.
She smiles, and not even the sun could match the amount of light she gives into the world. Not the brightest stars could replace her beacon of joy in the dark night.
He’s standing behind me, I know he’s watching me.
I love her, but how do I tell her?
He doesn’t know I love him, and I’ll never tell.
I pick a flower from the garden pot next to me.
I hear the pluck of a flower. He walks towards me.
I approach the girl they call Lily of the Valley. I hand her a single flower.
A rose.
A declaration of love.
A declaration of love.