Her thoughts turned to him as she sipped sweetened tea from the mismatched bone china cup and saucer, reminiscent of an English country garden. The flowers in bloom on the teacup garden bore no resemblance to her garden, a barren landscape. The only colour, the dotted weeds that had taken up home there in the tiny garden surrounded by a picket fence that had seen better days.
The rain pounded the petals; they became bent and bruised from its beating. Yet in the morning they would show their happy resilient faces to the world, seemingly recovered from their ordeal.
In the tiny caravan she drew comfort from the rain sounding on the roof. She liked to hear the footsteps of the dancing birds; those sounds cheered her up. The howling wind was welcome too for with these sounds for company she did not feel so alone.
Surrounded by books; their pages torn by her own hands, now covered in glue, she stuck them to the windows telling stories to an outside world that did not hear or listen. They admired the pretty curtains; any stories lurking between the walls and darkened crevices remained hidden to an external world.
The weeds had become her role-models; resilient to the trauma imposed upon them by the elements. They always grew back stronger and visited her garden again. There was a beauty to these weeds; considered outcasts in most gardens. To her they were the flowers that brightened up her desolate world, each beautifully unique. Like them she had not died. She too became resilient.
She now wears these flowers in her hair but she never calls them weeds. Some may be battered and bruised yet all remember their inner beauty; deserving of a space in any garden. She sipped her tea, reminding herself that she too was beautifully unique.
About the author: Rosi Pineiro is a healer, children’s author and poet. Her poetry regularly appears in publications of Off the Cuff E-zine and various online publications. She is currently working on book two in the series of The Adventures of an Elf Detective and her second poetry book.