The Last Bouquet

Traces. 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 outdoorsContinue reading “The Last Bouquet”