I saw a teenager waiting for a bus on Watson Road; her arms were laden with two foot long boughs from a lilac bush. I noticed a lavendar bush behind her in front of one of the businesses. It was lush, in full bloom, the purple flowers hung like grape clusters. I can imagine her reaching into her cosmetic bag for her manicure scissors as the impulse hit her. I wonder what she did with those branches, present them to her mother as a gift? Place them in a vase in her purple room? Lay them on a grave? Scent a stench-filled house with the delightful fragrance of lavendar? I am sure there is a poem in that experience.
Be on the lookout for "characters" in your stories and poems.
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