Cornflowers

“I am a country girl,” she said, and she lived on the second largest island of Estonia. She reminded me of a woman I once knew, who came from a country far from the meadow in which we stood, and whose eyes had been greener than the Caribbean.

The second largest island in Estonia is called Hiiumaa, and is a beacon of golden lights from it’s carefully placed lighthouses, and her eyes sparkled a strong blue as she drew back her bright blond hair.

The girl from Hiiumaa lit up her face with another smile as she picked a blue cornflower, from the edge if the meadow where we had met, or bumped into each other as I stepped from the pine forest. She tucked the cornflower behind her ear, just one of the deep blue cornflowers found scattered among the meadows that breach the forests up against the many beaches of Hiiumaa island

The evening sun glowed, I would have still dreamt of Carribean green, but the meadows entranced.

flowers—
not all scented
with memories