Monday, 11 May 2015

A crucified rose seeks a resurrection

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. 

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