Sometimes the road ahead can seem very long with high walls you cannot see over. You can feel trapped . As though it is a one way street. Life decides which way you will turn. Even though you thought you had a plan, it can change at a moments notice.
I do try to look for the best, and roses beginning to tumble over are a good sign. So although the brick wall is enclosing , it does seem as though there is a way through and if you look hard enough the path has a right turn just visible . So the pathway is not straight , its destination is not visible and the journey should be a fragrant , beautiful one. Days will be filled with buds of potential, full blooms of perfection and sadly discarded petals of tears. But rose petals tears can also be tears of joy and happiness. They can be dried into a pot pourri of fragrance and memory for winter months or old age, their scent a trigger for the senses of past events .
I miss my daily telephone conversation with the person who knows me best. Sometimes, in fact daily, the call takes place in my head as I share the issues of the day. Roses become my visiting card as I tidy the grave.
A glass vase filled with blooms by a photograph a silent tribute.
Somewhere or other there must surely be
The face not seen, the voice not heard,
The heart that not yet- never yet-ah me!
Made answer to my word.
'Somewhere or Other '