Always There


She received them when she graduated,
a celebration.
The Valentine’s days of the past;
sometimes, “just because.”

Placed on her bedside when she was born,
the celebration of life.
Natural, sweet perfume permeated the
sterile, unwelcoming feeling of the hospital.

Roses were always beautiful,
even when they were dried
and hung upside down.

They were placed on the wreath
to celebrate her life,
and placed over her as she lay to rest.

Life, love, happiness, and death –
the roses were always there.

Image captured by me, Peggy Rockefeller Rose Garden at New York Botanical Gardens – Bronx, NY

Published by B

A millennial residing in Brooklyn, NYC. I hate small talk.

One thought on “Always There

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