Half way right but then wrong again.

Could I awake from a slumber and collude with some sort of distant relative? One that I once held like a brother; the same one that now seems so vague in my mind.  It unrests me to think of it,  because its only like the cigarette gunk buried in my clothes ready to unleash its fastidious smell and remind me of the last nights. Ones I tried to forget! Out there though is where the timid flower clings on, almost whimpering like a dog as it braces itself in the wind; still so beautiful if not only in its symbolism, yet it seems too weak to be picked, and far more poignant would be the gesture of letting it flap hither and tither in the wet wind. Tis but a ‘come on’ for me though, I cannot let it be there, rasping against the cold stones that serve only for the purpose of eroding it. As the corner of my eye fixes on it, life does all of a sudden, suddenly stir! I pick it, romantically beholding it. “Oh!” “Cradle thee I shall!” It is now, and as I fully suspected, not so symbolic. It is an ambassador of nothing, but reminiscent of everything all at once. I beheld that flower, nursing it quickly to its shrivelled death. A flash in the sky was the flower, a red crumpled up dart it served in as much purpose, and now soggily lies in the wet rainbow filled pool, it soaks, I gloat. Have I not served a purpose today? Was there a memory that I could not tame? Or was it just an unpicked flower?