Two Dozen Roses

There were gorgeous red roses and ubiquitous baby’s breath. Lovely vase and ribbon and it’s been sitting here. The roses have opened and will only live until tonight or tomorrow morning, depending on whether anyone waters or feeds them.

What were they for? Love, an argument, a breakup. Who knows? They were sent, not personally delivered. I can tell you that if my husband wants to give me flowers he hand-delivers them. It’s different in later years because if I’m in the middle of making dinner I don’t want to find a vase and cut down a dozen roses.

Funeral? I don’t know. I just know that while funereal and beautiful two dozen roses are going to be dead by this afternoon and I hope that was not the intent. Dee

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