The aroma of the rose petal childhood memories, of making perfume on long summer days free of anything to do except dream and be.
Upon a late summers day, when rose petals flowed as bonny boats, my dreams became their happy of passengers; onward, onward, to the world beyond.
The rose petals were the bright confetti of the summer months, grown from the sweetest of buds to open with such confidence under the warm sun.
I guess they were miracles to me, the rose petals, as if conjured by a vivid dream and made real.
As a girl I would treasure the rose petals given by the summer sun in those long seasons of freedom. I loved their aroma. For me they were perfume. Each time I held them I fell in love with their fragrance all over again.
A rose petal may be temporary in each warm weather season, yet eternal in the memory of love, enough to span the ages.
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