With memories of our beginning kissed by the sun, I made my way towards a single rose in the pond. What sweet conjecture that fades and glows, seems to align those who can bear its thorns, and soon the skies were filled with heron.
I watch as weeping willows embrace the ground, now as its the utmost ebb of the night. I smile and heave most gentle sigh, upon gossamer clouds with a searching eye.
Was it impulse or wisdom stringing us along, I thought as I observed a single rose in the pond.
Photo credits: Tanya Marcuse
Posted for ‘Tuesday Platform’ @ Real Toads