"Sometimes I wonder what I would say if we had just one more day. Would I tell you the news from home? Ask you about where you now roam? Would I tell you all the things left unsaid? The guilt and regrets still in my head? Would I want to know that you're okay? Beg you please to come back and stay? Would I not say all that much? And just reach out for one last touch? I don't know what I would say. But I do sure wish for that one more day."

Branch sighed as he walked into his pod, his feet shuffling against the floor as he dragged his feet. His grandmother who was folding some laundry close by looked up as he entered their home. She set the shirt down she had in her hands and rushed over to him, her eyes clouded with worry.

"Branch? Are you okay?" the elderly female Troll asked with concern as she leaned closer to her grandson. "You look sad." She cupped his face in her hand, lifting his gaze towards her.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Branch replied, shrugging his grandma off. "I'm just gonna go to my room."

"Branch, wait," the purple-skinned Troll muttered, grabbing the young boy's shoulder and halting him.

Branch didn't know what his grandma wanted from him. He didn't feel like talking about his little encounter with Poppy or how he'd made his "friends" upset. She already knew about his crush on the Princess and that was awkward enough.

She had discovered it a few months ago when he'd be staring at her and King Peppy far off, with Peppy staring over the kingdom and Poppy bouncing around his feet and laughing loudly. She had looked so adorable and sweet that the little bright blue Troll could not keep his gaze away, nor could he hide the moony expression filling his eyes.

"I need to show you something," his grandma muttered, rousing him from his little thoughts.

Branch's mouth gaped open wide as he stared around the large, colorful flower garden his grandmother had brought him to. He spotted out several different kinds: daisies, lilies, roses, daffodils, dandelions, and...and poppies. He stared at the roundish, black-centered red flower with a little smile plastered on his face. I wish they were pink poppies, he thought. They'd remind me a lot more of her then. But red is nice too...

"You like it?" his grandma asked, taking his hand and staring down at him with a loving gaze. "I used to come here a lot but I haven't in years. I'm surprised it still looks the same."

The little blue Troll's eyes darted back and forth between each flower. He was absolutely fascinated by this place. "No, Grandma, I love it!" he squeaked, bouncing up and down a bit. He carefully approached one of the poppy flowers and bent down, grabbing its bright green stem and unhooking it from the ground. "Wow," he breathed out.

"Ah, a poppy flower, huh?" The elderly Troll chuckled with amusement. "They're pretty, aren't they? Just like the Princess." She winked at him which caused him to immediately feel embarrassed.

He stuffed the poppy in his pocket, staring down at his feet. "I-I guess..." he muttered.

His grandmother moved closer to him, bringing him into a quick hug before pulling back abruptly. "I know you love her, Branch," she murmured affectionately. "But give her a break. She's two years old and incapable of processing love. Wait till she's older, then you can try."

Branch's shoulders slumped and he sighed. "How could that work out?" he asked. "I'm a weird kid. I stare at nature all day and hardly make friends. How is that attractive?"

The old purple Troll shook her head. "If she only focuses on your exterior and not your interior, then she isn't worth your time. And what do you mean 'weird'? Branch, you're the most intelligent little boy I've ever met! And you're so sweet and caring and...handsome." She pecked his forehead in a gentle kiss and Branch giggled softly.

"Thanks, Grandma," he cooed, hugging her tightly and pressing his face into her chest. "Now let's get back to looking at all the flowers!" He pulled away from her, eyeing each petal and every color he saw. It was an absolutely breathtaking view. He couldn't get enough of it.

"Oooh! I was meaning to get a few of these!" His grandma rushed forward, bending down and picking a bundle of flowers. "I need to put these in the case when we get home."

He walked over in her direction, glancing up at her expression.

The smiling face of Branch's grandma loomed over him as she held out a stash of pretty blue flowers.

"These are my favorite! And they look so beautiful this season," the old purple Troll beamed brightly. "Do you like them, Branch?"

Branch examined them. They were tall-stemmed flowers with petals that curled downwards and had a strange yellow center. But their scent was tantalizing and the view soon made him awestruck. "Yeah! They're cool! What are they called?" The little boy tilted his head to one side, curiosity fizzing through him. He was already fascinated by nature, and to see a pretty flower like this excited him.

"They're called irises." The old Troll moved them closer to her face, giving them a gentle sniff with her bright blue-green nose. "Would you like to put them in the vase?"

"Right now??" Branch asked, surprised. Did that mean they had to leave already? He felt flashes of disappointment moving through him and sighed. He did not want to leave this place. It was beautiful and the now-setting sun made the view ten times more glorious. Oh, he felt as if his heart would explode from emotion!

"No, not right now, silly goose," his grandma chuckled. "When we get home." She stared down at the Iris flowers held in her hands. "You know, I always wanted a daughter I could name Iris after these flowers. But I never had a daughter, only a son. Your father." She smiled but that soon faded and was replaced by grief.

Branch understood her pain. He was mourning both of his parents like crazy. His father had been a strong, determined Troll admired by many and helped a lot throughout the village. He had a skill for lifting heavy objects and another for survival skills. His mother had been a beautiful, sweet, yet sometimes stubborn Troll. She had enjoyed singing and was amazing at it, her pretty octave inspiring Branch. Thankfully, he had been lucky enough to inherit her angelic singing voice.

"Alright, Branch, it's getting late," the old Troll muttered. "You need to get home and get ready for bed."

The sun was so low behind the village, it was hardly lighting the sky.

Branch didn't want to leave but he realized how tired he was and did not argue as his grandma guided him back towards their pod.