i find comfort in flowers,

their blooms and potential,

the way they burst with liveliness and fervor,

with uniqueness and vigor.

the way they compact life’s vibrancy 

into pleasant parcels of joy,

with the intention of evoking earth’s most euphoric emotions.

except carnations.

i hate carnations.

bury me in an abundance of roses instead,

red ones, with luscious petals.

paint my legacy with fiery wonder,

blossoming in illustrious glee as you tell my story,

all while i transition softly,

and become one with nature,

waiting to bloom once again.