The sweet sensations of lavender lines your nose with purity. 

Living lavishly in the lawless valley, bunches of blue-violet blotches cover the hills in rows. 

Rows that smell of faint, fantastical fire. 

The fire that burns inside of your stomach longing to endure the weight of the wicked world we love and hate.

It can be hung by the stem in your kitchen, the aroma roaming ‘round the room as the tranquility treats your tethered tale.

The minuscule leaves drop off the tied stem, 

Your worries, woes, writhes now condemned. 

You take that small piece of plant tied in tired twine and pocket it in your purple parachute pants with the hope of remembering that very valley you know and love. 

The vast, vivacious void that stays evident in your mind caresses your heart, telling you that it will be okay. 

“Be calm, be bountiful, be brave”

That lavender will eternally stick with you, no matter how tough the times may be;

The serene sights entrance you with utmost glee.