She flipped through the photo album. Empty.
She stared at it, wondering again what kind of flower decorated the cover. Her mind tried to find the word for its color then thought about the emptiness again.
Running her fingertips over the delicate petals, she closed her eyes and started humming a lullaby she used to sing to her daughter at bedtime.
Notes floated around her room and she frowned trying to recall the name of the song.
Round and round like the seasons. Cycles of summer, autumn, winter…spring.
Yes. Those flowers blossomed in the spring.
In and out and back again. In the dirt, planting seeds, watering can sprinkles the earth. Stems push through the soil, leaves grow, petals unfold.
Peach. It was peach, that hue. The cover.
And the flower, a rose. Carnation. Daisy.
Emptiness. Pink. Flowers. Spring.
With things that are alive trying to sprout from things that look dead.
The album was closed but she knew it was empty. They took the fading photos—black and white memories she was starting to lose.
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Week 62 Prompt: Photograph