Smell the flowers

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Look up,

long before the touch screen, double tap, like-infested distractions.

She needed to look up.

It was on everyone’s lips.

Teachers,

parents,

nana and babu,

strangers on the train.

They had jokes too,

stick a bookmark in it and smell the daisies.

Couldn’t smell a gas leak and her life literally depended on that but flowers would do it.

It was her mom’s fault,

goosebumps before fairy tales,

animal farm not traveling pants.

Lost to words before she could be lost to the network.

Ironically,

she was an oddity then,

an oddity now.


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