Author's Note: A short drabble I came up with.
Lily. His breath caught. Poppy had planted some today. He had always loved lilies. Pure. Like her. The lilies were orange, reminding him of her flowing locks. He had always wanted to feel her rippling hair. Soft, yet fiery, like she was. Many layers, intricate. The leaves, as green as her eyes. Shining, fierce, determined, gentle, strong, anger. Her eyes held these and much more. Everything shone through her eyes. Once, these eyes had been full of love for him. But it was sisterly, a juvenile affection. Nothing more. But soon, this too had faded. Leaving her to look at her with contempt. She was in the arms of his enemy, who he had thought was her enemy, too. Lilies meant Sacrifice. She had sacrificed herself. To save her family. She had always valued family over everything else. He sighed. Sometimes the past was too painful to bear. But he would ask Poppy for one.