Contrary to popular opinion,
i think the rose is at its best
when just beyond blown.
There she sits,
knowing this is it.
She is at the far side
of the best she'll ever be.
She opens up her petals
and says 'take all of me'.
For one brave moment.
Before she hangs her head
in morbid shame.
Her scarlet robes
dropping and drifting.
Each regretful sigh,
a further cause to fall,
until there is nothing
and she is naked after all.
Some fabulous tiles in the vestibule
19th Oct 2007, 16:16
comments (1)
Well on the 19th november 1910 mr william carr married miss mary emma foster. Five years later my gran appeared. She was 92 yesterday.
18th Oct 2007, 11:11
comments (1)
Mmm. Some of the benefits of being ill.
Do they still do caffrey's red? Mmm. 'when i am dead, let it be said, his sins were scarlett but his hair was red'