Joanna Ashwell
Wildflowers
Collecting fallen rose petals in a jar to make homemade perfume. Making daisy chains in sunshine—he loves me, he loves me not. Spying a row of petals beside my friend and joining in the game. Don’t pick dandelions, they’ll make you pee. Holding a buttercup beneath the chin, waiting for the glow to appear. Who is revealed that likes butter? The old wives’ tale that if you fall, put butter on the bruise. Do dock leaves really cool the sting of a nettle? Who is going to grasp one to test the theory? Does he love me, or does he not?
in plain sight the sudden warmth from his lips
About the Author
Joanna Ashwell, a writer from the north-east of England, is a member of various societies for haiku and tanka. Enjoys reading and writing haiku, tanka, haibun, cherita, and other related forms.
soothing! The flower references are vivid. It took me to your garden
Love this, Joanna. My mother used to say to put butter on burn. That makes no sense at all!
Lovely Joanna.
I think butter on burns was what they did back then. It does not make sense at all.