Suspended in the air, two sunlit blossoms wave gently above dark earth.
I hope they enjoy each others' company, because a pairing like that could become stale very quickly, when you glimpse the same petals out of the corner of your eye, feel the same light tickle from their leaves as the wind rocks you. You never get their scent out of your nose, day after day.
But, what if one was separated? Either devoured by some insect, or instead abandoned by the stable stem it had always relied upon? Left to float helplessly on the breeze as it fades into shadow far below.
I feel like there may be a short freeing moment for the remaining blossom. A welcomed solitude that hadn't been experienced before now, as they bask in their singularity.
But before long, I think they'd begin looking back upon their fallen friend with longing. Remembering what it felt like to be part of a pair, with constant companionship, and a listening ear only a moment away.
Their everyday scent would then be treated as precious perfume, and the soft touch of their petals, as a caress to be savored and treasured.
That's always what happens after a fall. You learn to truly yearn for something, only after it's been taken away, and you're left alone to muse upon it.
You sink into the aftermath. And your memories take the place of the lost, only a pale comparison of the original.