Valley of Roses
I walked across a flower shop and momentarily gazed at the flowers inside. The sweet memories of the roses' scent wafted out to greet me with open arms.
I used to give flowers away. Actually when I had a girlfriend rather. I remember walking into the store with the familiar face of the person behind the counter. A kind middle aged woman who ran the shop that I often patronized.(Its above orchard station by the way.) She'd greet me and ask me what I wanted this time.
"A red rose." I would reply with a smile.
"For your girlfriend?" She gave me a knowing look as she smiled. I remember blushing from head to toe.
"Yes." I'd reply.
"Her birthday?" She'd ask. Florists like small talk. (I guess it helps business.)
"Well.. er.. nope."
"ah... Don't need a reason to give flowers huh? Its a dollar. " She smiles.
Clutching the roses in my hands as I walked away. Gently running its red petals between my finger tips and feeling its velvety surface. I would stop, close my eyes to draw a single deep breath and embrace the wonderful scent of the rose.
As soon as it ended, I would snap out of it and look around to wonder if anyone was laughing at me and fumble as i try hide the rose.
A flower is a wonderful thing. I feel like giving someone a flower.
Maybe I will.
love,
jonjonjonjonjonjon.
P.S. I remember my social ettiquette teacher. "Always hold the rose with two fingers near the base on the stalk and walk with it like its part of you." I'd try to imagine and give up. It usually ended up below waist level and slightly hidden behind me.
I used to give flowers away. Actually when I had a girlfriend rather. I remember walking into the store with the familiar face of the person behind the counter. A kind middle aged woman who ran the shop that I often patronized.(Its above orchard station by the way.) She'd greet me and ask me what I wanted this time.
"A red rose." I would reply with a smile.
"For your girlfriend?" She gave me a knowing look as she smiled. I remember blushing from head to toe.
"Yes." I'd reply.
"Her birthday?" She'd ask. Florists like small talk. (I guess it helps business.)
"Well.. er.. nope."
"ah... Don't need a reason to give flowers huh? Its a dollar. " She smiles.
Clutching the roses in my hands as I walked away. Gently running its red petals between my finger tips and feeling its velvety surface. I would stop, close my eyes to draw a single deep breath and embrace the wonderful scent of the rose.
As soon as it ended, I would snap out of it and look around to wonder if anyone was laughing at me and fumble as i try hide the rose.
A flower is a wonderful thing. I feel like giving someone a flower.
Maybe I will.
love,
jonjonjonjonjonjon.
P.S. I remember my social ettiquette teacher. "Always hold the rose with two fingers near the base on the stalk and walk with it like its part of you." I'd try to imagine and give up. It usually ended up below waist level and slightly hidden behind me.
posted by Jon Lame at 12:53 AM
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