My springtime friend, lovely ranunculus. Even your shadow was enticing. But not just to my camera and me, to the aphids as well.
I didn’t know it was happening until it was too late. There was no hope of undoing what had so swiftly taken place. Your second bud would never know the warm sun on its open face.
I looked at you, but I did not see. I gave you water but not what you really needed. I brought you home, and I let you down.
Now all that remains is a shadow of a memory.