Memories.

*The act or an instance of remembering; recollection*
What do you do when you are in exactly the right place, at the exact right time, but you have no way to keep it there? The moment is so perfect and real and clear, you wish you could frame it and hang it on your wall forever.  The wall of memories, of your triumphs, that mirrors you.  You wish you could snap a photo and print it out on glossy paper, never to lose it.  But time happens to be a fickle thing, and no matter how much you try, it wont stop.  Not for you, not for me, not even for itself.  But sometimes, you can press it.  Lay out a clean piece of paper, and imprint it on the edges.  A petal is like a cradled memory, pressed it will stay with you even out of sight.  But if you begin to forget, it will be carried away out of reach.  Out of time.  Yet another flower will soon bloom in its place. And then another petal will fall.  Will you be the one to pick it up?