Yesterday, after opening to you like a morning glory on a trellis, then following you the way Clytie followed her sun through these fine motions of love, I have found that bed of deep flowering which will fragrance my days and allow me, for a little while longer, to believe that you think I am beautiful. All of this will become a memory to be savored; it must be mulched and buried for it to survive like those rare, petal-yellow roses before that terribly long and coming winter takes over.

giving you
the first rose of the garden
anniversary day