had a golden rose in my small garden, lovingly cared for her, she spent the best minutes day, singing to her more melodic songs, my caresses became the most beautiful flowers. Their petals at night, in the light of the moon, absorbing aromas who longed for the stars. Spoiled, gifted, envied ... among plants and flowers grew, safe, free of want, on a bed of undying love.
That fateful day, a gentle wind besieged my garden, whispering love with the pink boot was left by him, I could defend, in a twinkling it was on my side away, where they could go to recreate I look at it or smell the perfume pearly petals open. It was free, would not remain attached to the branches of a rose watched my loving care. It was, I was not behind it because it was time that he lived his life choice.
Over the years, other winds, turned to me. Instantly I recognized that rose, despite the lost beauty, which at one time had crown of a queen in my garden. Now everything was different, there was enough magic which managed to recover his reign, not because someone would have owned in his absence, not because I do not want ... Could not because he only returned to find a place to shelter from the cold, where wind erosion repair that took her, a place to receive the drop of a new morning dew under the sun for a day to feed their lost glory.
Today, among its petals torn, has shone the dew of a new dawn.
0 comments:
Post a Comment