Give Them Their Flowers

 

Every chance you get,

Hand somebody their flowers.

Don't wait for caskets

Or quiet rooms filled with should-have.

Say, I love you,

When your voice still carries warmth.

Say, thank you,

When their eyes can still see your light.

The truth is:

Tomorrow is a fragile promise,

A whisper that can fade mid-sentence.

Even the next second

Is not guaranteed.

So love loud.

Give grace freely.

Let peace start with your own heart.

Because death is not the only mirror

That shows us our regrets.

Sometimes it is the silence

We kept

While life was still listening.