Smile little flower

 *I hope you smile when you wake,* I said longingly knowing I wouldn't be there to see. It touched her eyes and made me feel better, even just the image in my mind; a strange feeling like being hugged from the inside, the press of her body to mine, sensation of skin to skin, her weight pressing on me urgently, but settled and content - All of that, *but from within*. I don't have the words to describe it, I just *feel it.* Her smile is wondrous. *I hope your day starts with that breakfast you love,* and I smiled imagining pieces of rye bread dipped in flavoured olive-oils and pesto's as her morning unfolds. Breakfast or *ritualistic eating*, either way a moment in which she finds value and enjoyment...I smile, thinking of her smile. *I hope the air is so fresh outside that you can't help but breathe in deeply, eyes closed with pleasure.* My mind wandered to the vision of her on the terrace, early morning rays lighting her strawberry-blond hair like a golden crown, caressing cool skin with warmth and throwing her shapely shadow back towards me as I stand watching with desire in my eyes and love in my heart. A familiar sight I'll not tire of. *I hope you find a mirror and your lovely eyes behold beauty reflected there,* I said in a whisper. I knew she'd screw her lightly freckled nose up; seeing her own beauty didn't come easily but it was there and I told her often. It was true beauty, that started within, and sparkled outwards; a kaleidoscope of colour that shone upon me, reaching inside, staining my heart with soft pastels and vibrant hues - It held back the muted shades; still there but *colourised,* a field of flowers of every hue. *I hope you find silence but for nature and your meaningful thoughts brought to life through softly spoken words,* I said this whilst selfishly holding hope some of those thoughts might be for me and her beautiful voice echoed through my mind, spoke to my heart. *I hope today's sunshine warms your skin as you walk, the simple movement carrying your soul forward to your central-point, even as it moves you physically.* I wish to be there as I have been so many times, talking, laughing and connected. Together. I turn to valued memories made on those walks: Her beautiful laugh like music to me, her meaningful thought or a spoken word of love or lust. Those memories feed my soul. *I hope you smile some more my love*; a memory, a thought or emotion the cause. *I hope you find tea and quiet moments to sip it,* I said with a smirk, the image of her walking, mug in hand, to her computer where she'd work on her designs; glasses pushed up on her head holding her hair back but for a few stray wisps, a slightly dishevelled look that looked so casually-fine and always melted my heart. *I hope your hair stays hooked behind your ear as you work, but I know it won't,* I said with a small laugh, and I saw in my mind the absent one-handed gesture she'd make to tuck it back once again, and again; I'd stand beside and do it for her just to be there. *I hope your hands touch flowers, or yourself, tenderly and with love,* I said knowing she'd know what I meant. The feel of nature, softness of petals beneath her fingers, her dependence on nature, always brought peace. Her face when she inhaled after a shower of rain when the earth released the scent of petrichor was beauty personified. Closeness to nature infused her body and soul and she shone; she touched nature with gentleness, a sense of wonder and belonging. I imagined soft fingers tenderly stroking a butterfly, lips slightly parted, half-closed eyes not seeing; soft purring sounds of solitary enjoyment. *I hope that you hold hope, and wish that you see yourself as I see you.* This last was said with sadness as I'd knew I'd have to go soon. It was foolish to think she'd see herself as I do but if...She'd see a million stars on a clear night, a crystal clear mountain stream, a field of flowers swaying in spring breezes, delicate snowfall clinging lightly to fir trees, high mountain peaks, lush verdant valleys, coloured autumn leaves and dew on spring blossom...She would see true beauty; if only she would look. *** I was far away, unable to say these things to her, feel her gaze upon me or her body melding with mine as she surrendered to my embrace and I to hers. I wasn't able to touch her face, look down into her eyes and see myself reflected. I was away and for now couldn't walk the garden with her, hand in hand...But I knew I would. The track ***flower*** started playing and I smiled; she was that, *my little flower;* a garden of flowers in truth, all different colours and shapes beautifully scented whose soft petals I longed to touch. I smiled and looked at the message I'd typed on my phone. Words spoken, typed and felt; but much more than that in truth, so much more than mere words. I pressed send on the message and sat there for little bit staring at her image on my phone; I did that a lot, every time I looked at my phone it was there. In it she was blowing me a kiss whilst looking up at her phone held above to take the photo, hair dishevelled, one side tucked behind an ear, eyes saying *everything*. Simply beautiful. I looked at the image and smiled...With hope. [A fiction. For her] *** *"Life is a flower of which love is the honey."* - Victor Hugo