The Last Bouquet


Traces of Summer Fading
Traces of Summer Fading

Old roses, pouring out a Springtime show, a last reaching for the sun, blooming, rich scented musk, and we inhale delight.

Tomorrow we will be satisfied with the damp, spent fragrance of fading roses, and gather spent and fallen petals to dry and save for dark places that welcome old scent.

Their baby cousins left outdoors will be dead, frozen, never to be seen in bloom.

We will remark how the last bouquet is always the rarest, while dark winds blow and traces of sleet fall.

We will inhale traces of delight from the remaining blooms, longing to imprint their gifts in our memories.

And failing.

And we will satisfy ourselves with the spices of oaken smoke and old recipes.

And dried, faded petals scattered in the dark places.

And we will put them away again when the first traces of warm earth rise up like ghosts of summers past, to take us back to the roses.

Published by Katharine

Katharine is a writer, speaker, women's counselor, and professional mom. Happily married over 50 years to the same gorgeous guy. She loves cooking amazing homegrown food, celebrating grandbabies, her golden-egg-laying hennies, and watching old movies with popcorn. Her writing appears at Medium, Arkansas Women Bloggers, Contently, The Testimony Train, Taste Arkansas, Only in Arkansas, and in several professional magazines and one anthology.

4 thoughts on “The Last Bouquet

    1. Thanks for your kind words, Lydia, and WELCOME to Home’s Cool! 🙂
      I am so glad you liked this. Sometimes I’m all about factoids and sometimes the poet jumps up and takes over. 😉
      Hope you visit again, soon!

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