"Stupid commercial holiday," I declared,
throwing back my hair. Cheers of agreement
from the rest of the class.
And yet I pictured you waiting for me,
standing at the front gates wearing
that checked cap.
Smiling, red rose in hand,
with that look how clever i've been
spark in your eyes.
And when you weren't there,
I pictured arriving home, opening
the rusty iron gate and walking up the path,
stumbling over the bouquet left at the door.
Lillies, maybe. A sweet, overwhelming scent.
A note - love, always, love, forever.
And when there was no bouquet,
I pictured your car pulling up to the house,
one long sound of the horn drawing me to the window.
Outside, you climbing out of the sunroof,
sunflower in hand, laughing at your own
joke: "You thought I had forgotten!".
But no car. No horn. Just silence.
And finally I let myself relax into defeat.
There would be no flowers, no love notes. No you.
I went outside, picked a dandelion.
Put it in my hair and watched the sunrise.
"Stupid commercial holiday", I declared.
