Does love truly fade away, or does it get tucked away?
As a child my grandfather Tosh and I would grow my favorite flowers for me. By the time it was spring, and they were fully bloomed, I’d pick out the most appealing ones out of the bunch and I’d tuck them away in the pages of my grand parents encyclopedias. I’d take in every smell of every page. I’d find the right one, and tuck away my favorite blood-red flowers. Often times I’d forget about these flowers. The times I didn’t, I’d spend hours trying to find them. Where were they? What page number did I press them in? Why had I so foolishly forgotten about them, after spending long amounts of time nurturing them, watching them grow, choosing the ones I loved best?
I’d give up, but never forget. As time passed I’d admire flowers from afar, scared that I’d lose them… I gave up. But never forgot.
See, that is what I think about love.
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sammierae27 said:
You Should get a second major in writing.
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