Lily of the valley, wild and small flowers. pure white bells, dangling from delicate emerald stems, freshly, uniquely scented.
Lily of the valley is, sweet spring, innocence, untamed youth, home, possibilities, and, my mother. my mother most of all.
in good times, spring fever spent with our noses buried in the small grove we grew in our garden. a joy. a fabled dream.
but later, when dad left, and the lilies died, came the bad times.
drunken, incoherent words from mom. crying and confusion from me.
so I run. run, run, run back, and smell the Lily of the valley.
the saccharine escape, to the days gone by.
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