By Emma Omid
Some flowers are meant
To be picked
To be placed
In a vase
Put on display
Until they shrivel and die
And they are thrown back
To where they have always belonged
And will stay.
I always find myself yearning
For a field of blue buds
To take me there.
They turn into the most beloved
Forget-me-nots,
And this journey
I will never
Forget.