There is a garden along the long and winding road (Beatles) tha-at leads to my dooooooor (on my brick-ed cottage). I climbed on my bright red, retro, fixed-gear super-cycle wearing sandals, linen pants and a relaxed, white button-down. As I pedaled, I felt like I was floating through a breeze. I’d slow by the beautiful blooms, at times dismounting my bicycle to capture (really drink in that word “capture”) the magic these creatures exude. Then, there would be a pedal burst as I cycled forward to the next petal burst!
Sweet delicate flow’rs, let me be born again through your radiance. Let me admire your effortless folds and, when I see imperfections (wilting, scarred velvet), let me understand that I too am damaged, but, even still, can also be beautiful. Unless, dear rose, I am a perfect, healthy flow’r. That could certainly be the case too.
A while ago, I took a bunch of pics of flowers. I personally like the orange one a lot. It was wallpaper on my phone for a while.