![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikrxc8Z-DwpoSB1yLdJhlvyiGgDgw9H_erdYyP0feW7_Fd_XvbSjvu2nPjcmmw5wRN4QiGLOYimTZcSoiV4HmxLfLqeVUm-i9x12AN0gFMsCpzn0O8Y7bNaTIRVmaAfUh9r7rV5K3unhs/s320/RosesWeb.jpg)
He brings me roses
from our garden and
my mind sees my father
bringing Mother roses
from their garden and
she would say,
"These are lovely."
Like a recording
of voice between my mother
and me, I say
"These are lovely."
Of all the moments shared
in the marriage of my parents,
I wanted this giving moment
of roses to be mine, also. Now,
flowering into time, an
act as sweet as
I saw 50 years ago.
This is beautiful!
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