Thursday, June 18, 2015

6.15.15 Eyes closed, worshiping the moment



A loving thoughtful someone comes by, with the most luxuriant decadent Peony bouquets, two weeks running . 

The smell of each blossom follows you through the rooms of your home; sweet , spicy , one an almost poignant scent. 

And when you go to trim the stems of the butter soft blossoms, some cascade down into the softest extraordinary piles of petals , as it strikes you that they truly should be lining the cotton -sheet-made bed of someone somewhere, imagining them lowering down among the fluttering scented small heaps of ripened blossoms, lying there , eyes closed, worshiping the moment.

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