Sunday, October 13, 2013

Red Rose (with Tania P)

Perhaps we see a rose as red, yet the one color in which the eye sees it dressed is the very color the rose rejects – and much remains hidden in the solitude of each silken pinwheel grown thick with fragrance where unseen colors continue to dwell.

Maybe that is best, to allow the center its private inward furl--a destination navigated most unbiased by child, dreamer, painter before assuming palette.  How tightly each petal grips the common stem. How equally pleasing: plucked petal and its perfect swath around three sides of human thumb.  

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