Pressed Flower

A flower can bloom once,

Or time and again;

Can blossom for a night,

And be loved all the same.

But even beauty seen by just one,

Is still remembered in the sun,

Alive and so beautiful,

Each petal a leaf of its own story.

When you wilt - as I know you must -

I will press the memory of you

Between the pages of your life,

And keep it close by,

High on my favourite shelf.

When I miss you - as I know I will -

I can reach for that book,

Read it cover to cover,

The flower pressed

Against my heavy chest.

And I will know it is still beautiful,

A life well lived,

A soul much missed,

A cheek kissed

By the flower you were,

To remind me of the love you are.

Many flowers bloom just once;

I'm lucky you stayed for a while,

And though I'm sad now, don't fret:

A pressed flower can always make me smile.