A few years ago, at this very moment, a phone call came. Rationally expected but, irrationally, no. And a mad dash, in an incredible fog, through places then unknown. And moving from place to place, all through the night, with the fog continuing to mask it all. A few hours later, the second call came - this one, by then, expected on both a rational and irrational level.
This is one of your roses, which blooms so beautifully every year, at this time.
And it is for you, as it always will be.
