I thought of the way it ended. His ending. I thought of papa and I thought of his last pain etched words, the ones that even now, after all these years…after all these years still now ring in my ears.
And then I thought of you. I thought of you there in Earth’s last dawning autumn. That last morning. In the garden. The roses were vibrantly beautiful if not garishly red. And it was only in spilling the secrets too long cloistered in my veins that I was able to free them, to bleed them to their more natural colour.