Pressed Flowers

This poem is inspired by the song Maana Ki Hum Yaar Nahi sung by Parineeti Chopra. It was written on my way to French class during my freshman year of college.

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Last night, I opened up an old book

I blew off a layer of dust like they do in the movies

And I creaked its spine open

It was stale and I flipped through the pages

Until I came across an old pressed flower

Dried and shriveled

Barely pink anymore 

A faint smell wafted toward my nose

The wisps of an ancient memory tickled at the edges of my brain

A hand in a bright golden field

White teeth behind a wide grin

The memory materialized

The hand became real

It was mine, reaching for the flower

But when I picked it up,

It had turned to dust

2/8/18