Chey got roses today. A mammoth, gaudy, had to be hauled to the office in a van because they wouldn't fit in a VW, bouquet of roses. I love roses. But not like this. I like rambling wild roses spider crawling up the fence like a pink blackberry bush gone mad. I like seven sisters, passed from house to house and from generation to generation. I like my roses. Thorny and knotty, accidently beautiful, and free....She didn't show me the card or read me the words and she didn't have to. As the long stemmed beauties dipped over the counter, babies breath stretching, reaching, rising....the bouquet spoke for itself. The fifty dollar apology. The show everybody "I'm the man" button. The secret admirer out of the box. The loud mouth.
I'll stick to wildflowers, thank you....
and words.....
just say the words....
Peace~love
