I knew

The comforting familiar faces of the pansies looked up at me. Snapdragons danced behind them while the dahlias stood proudly at the back. Oh, but the freesias! They'd always been my first love, a sweet aroma paired with a gentle though refined profile, bundles of petals falling to the path under their own weight.

A brief moment, a shared memory.

The earth underneath as important as the blossom on the surface, you had a marvelous wealth of knowledge, you knew every shrub, leaf and bulb by sight, always willing to impart this information on those ready to learn. But not every lesson was of flora, one visit with you would wash away all the tensions of the world. Perspective gained over tea in a china cup.

A crowded room, old faces from a lifetime ago, but somehow still looking very isolated. A hand on your shoulder, you are not alone, "I knew it was you" breaks me in two. The pieces don't come together quite like they used to, cracked but not broken, a decal over the ceramic lines hide much. Perhaps a mother-of-pearl glaze would help?

The hand-me-down second generation seedling produces the most wonderful specimens, diverse in nature and rich in beauty. Only through passing these traits can we experience the best you had to offer, and teach us you did, every day. Every day the best of you is grown from the bulbs of our experiences. The fortunate buds to have shared the sun with your petals, though missing the sheltering of your foliage, will reach the sky, higher than any other.

You were the pansy, now I am the freesia.