Daises were her flower

He listened intently while the patter of the rain against the windowsill came to a stop. "Finally" he thought, "I should make my way to the cemetary now.". Today is the anniversary of the death of his mother. "Oh yes!" he exclaimed. "I mustn't forget flowers". After cutting some roses from a well pampered bush from his home's garden, he headed on his way to the cemetary. The scent of rain still fresh in the air, was overpowered by the man's heavy usage of cologne. Halfway there, he passed his childhood home. Its vacancy seemed to play with his heart, leaving a variety of feelings to be contained by tears in his eyes. Up a stone pathway he found a familiar sight. His mother at rest, peacefully. "she loved the world with an open heart. Her lies Donna B. Shelding, mother of Benjamin G. Shelding". With only one sentence read, Ben's eyes could no longer be dams to his feelings. One year later, and he still feels alone. He put his jacket's hood up to avoid the newly falling rain. His head remained dry, while his face did not. Ben headed home with the flowers still in hand. He was not one to forget. His mother did not care for roses. Daisies were her flower.