Has never seen the bigger picture.
Was never gifted the opportunity.
Intrigued by the look of it afar.
The word nearly came from the hill and broke through.
What his disorganized mother would frown upon.
Making him detain his curiosity.
Lavender.
An anonymous color.
But so pretty and calm.
A petite plant
yet so odorous.
Despite his detesting tone.
He yearns to know.
The velvety-looking cupid’s arrow.
East and West tipped up at him.
He hated how that
made his intestines compress.
A warning or kismet sign.
Glowing fireflies shimmer on the heart shaped beauty.
It mettled with his cognition
Like the sun’s flicker.
So wishy-washy as the suds drowned out.
The ebb and flow of hearty repetition.
Usually the plant was to blame.
Unusual.
He tapped the plant’s shoulder evasively.
Clutching a coat.
As quiet as a mime
glaring into her eyes,
eyes that told nothing but the truth.
Predictably, he falters.
Shoving the wool into the lavender’s center.
And like the boogieman,
he vanishes into the narrow abyss;
like a candle blown out.
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