all around, and away we go

Flowers are fairly small things; that's why you need to have them in bunches to be noticeable. But flowers suffer the idea of themselves. Love, and kindness, and romance, and beauty, and other flowery stuff².

You reach out to touch a flower not because it is a flower, but because it's beautiful. You give your enamoured flowers not for the flower themselves, but for what it represents.

So in a way, no one ever really sees a flower. It's too small, and we haven't the time. We simply carry the predisposed idea of what flowers are.

Friends become flowers; shells and echoes of a long since decided idea.

We are flowers, on walls, on a book littered with faces.

Who's to say a fistful of daisies haven't withered to dandelions that have been at the mercy of enthused children with puffed up cheeks. Or blossomed to deepest scarlets, surrounded by thorns.

1. All of this absolutely stolen from here
2. If it were floury stuff, then it'd be rotis, and pizza bases and the like.