The Last Flower

My nose is filled with the sweet scent of beautiful Banksia aurantia,

its vibrant orange colour bringing happiness to my soul.

Only the plant itself looks sad, like a puzzle missing a peice.

I long to see what’s troubling it, behind it's magnificent colours and smells, I want to know why it seems so down.

I take a step back.

And soon my eyes see the answer, the thing I've waited so long for. 

Its not that it's sick or that it's in pain, only that it's lonely. 

So very lonely and sad, no family of its own kind left.

No family to share happy moments with, no family to bring him joy, just him by himself, all alone.

A gust of wind goes by, and a terribly bad thing happens,

the smell of my beautiful banksia is washed away by fumes, a car has come, and my tummy goes sick, oh the terrible smell it makes.

The colour from my world gets wiped from my eyes and I no longer see a happy place but a dreadful black and white world.

Around me factories have steam rising from their chimneys, rubbish all over the paths, bins full to the brim, every person I can see on their phones.

Is this the world I have failed to see?

Now I really understand, I understand what the banksia understands but I don’t think anyone else does. 

The banksia is the last piece of colour left in this black and white world.