It was just another of those bright mornings with the early shoppers to the market, gaily moving from shop to shop with a look at the distant exhibits.
The roses in bouquet were a blossom to the heart, after a long gap of the misty gardens failing to bring them to bloom.
With my short sight of colors, as we all men are when in comparison with our beauties, i picked up a different shade of each.
Each rose found a promising place, and there was one left after all the vases were filled and hearts melted, hmmm with a small thought a place on the wall was cellotaped with the thorny bloom.
I went on with my work at the desk below it.
It was more of a call from the flower, begging to be released, i turned and felt myself suddenly a bandit ,pilfering a creation to be taped.
Down it came and a magical cup was found and there it was on the table top, spreading its beauty to those who could notice.