A Man Watching Flowers Bloom
prompt: a man watching a flower bloom. (i was told to take it however i wanted.)
The sun was laughing. Not like "HAHA!!" or anything. Just a gently sigh of a laugh. It shone brightly in the sky, glorious and happy and all-around shinning proudly in the cloudless sky. If it could show expressions, what would they be? Who would notice? Not many would care. They would become accustomed to it and let it become another insignificant thing in their lives. But not him. He needed the sun. Without it, what would he do with himself. His life revolved around the giant fireball. His friends did too. Their heads followed the sun as it traveled across the sky. A field of yellow tracking the yellow above them like a golden retriever. They alone saw the expressions the sun made. They knew when it was angry, or when it was sad, or like now, while it was happy.
The breeze tickled their petals and they giggled in turn. The man standing near saw this and he couldn't quite help the smile that formed on his lips. He walked forward, gently rubbing their leaves, causing them to purr in response. Those he wasn't touching reached for him, asking for similar treatment like children asking for ice cream. But then again, they were children. They were his children. He raised them from seed, cultivated their soil, and watched them bloom and become what they were now. Soon they'd grow taller than him, much like children do with their parents. Though he guessed they couldn't be called children any more. Looking up, he stretched, reaching high about him, the flowers following suit.
Looking around, he continued walking through the field, greeted and welcomed by his family. No, he couldn't call them children anymore. He continued walking, talking and teasing the underside of the flowers' heads. When he had moved passed, the continued following the sun. They were happy and content. That was all he cared for. They were grown up and could care for themselves. No longer children.
As he walked he noticed a small stem that just barely reached his knee. He smiled at it, his gaze fixed on it. The others may be grown, yes, but his job wasn't over.
Not quite yet.
The sun was laughing. Not like "HAHA!!" or anything. Just a gently sigh of a laugh. It shone brightly in the sky, glorious and happy and all-around shinning proudly in the cloudless sky. If it could show expressions, what would they be? Who would notice? Not many would care. They would become accustomed to it and let it become another insignificant thing in their lives. But not him. He needed the sun. Without it, what would he do with himself. His life revolved around the giant fireball. His friends did too. Their heads followed the sun as it traveled across the sky. A field of yellow tracking the yellow above them like a golden retriever. They alone saw the expressions the sun made. They knew when it was angry, or when it was sad, or like now, while it was happy.
The breeze tickled their petals and they giggled in turn. The man standing near saw this and he couldn't quite help the smile that formed on his lips. He walked forward, gently rubbing their leaves, causing them to purr in response. Those he wasn't touching reached for him, asking for similar treatment like children asking for ice cream. But then again, they were children. They were his children. He raised them from seed, cultivated their soil, and watched them bloom and become what they were now. Soon they'd grow taller than him, much like children do with their parents. Though he guessed they couldn't be called children any more. Looking up, he stretched, reaching high about him, the flowers following suit.
Looking around, he continued walking through the field, greeted and welcomed by his family. No, he couldn't call them children anymore. He continued walking, talking and teasing the underside of the flowers' heads. When he had moved passed, the continued following the sun. They were happy and content. That was all he cared for. They were grown up and could care for themselves. No longer children.
As he walked he noticed a small stem that just barely reached his knee. He smiled at it, his gaze fixed on it. The others may be grown, yes, but his job wasn't over.
Not quite yet.