“This is my Story. A story about flowers. When you see me now I am not what I have been. I have become an art piece.” I took this picture from an oil paint picture. The original picture came from a wall of a clinic which had since been sold. The owner has retired early and is now in a far away country. The picture is one of the several in my store. This one attracts me in the brilliance of the colors. Sometimes I wonder what the fresh flowers had really looked before they were captured in oil. If only this picture could talk and tell me the story of each flower. What are their names? Where are they from? How did they get captivated by the artist? Did he/she travel far to find such beauty? Did the artist leave them in the field while giving them a more permanent home?
I have found the following poem titled “Flowers” which describes aptly the silent but comforting interaction between flowers and human. I can see the smiles on these flowers. Don’t you?
They have no mouth, but seem to speak
A thousand words so mild and meek.
They have no eyes , but seem to see
And bury thoughts into me.
They have no ears, but seem to hear
All my cries, my every tear.
They have no arms, but seem to pat
When with worries my heart is fat.
They have no feet, but seem to walk
Along with me in my dreams and talk.
They, I know, are the flowers so nice
That spread their fragrance a million miles.
Grow a few and then you’ll know
How your life is fresh and new.
With a smile so broad, I thank my God,
Whose work to imagine is really too hard.
(Poem taken from: https://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poem/flowers)