The garden in front of our home is graced by many rose bushes. My Beloved lovingly planted them many years ago and I now nurture them. Gorgeous yellow blossoms explode from a whole row of them. They vibrantly glow in the warm sunlight, petals quivering with delight from the caresses of a gentle breeze. Oddly, in the middle of one of them is a branch of deep crimson blooms. The sight is visually jarring yet beautiful. Of all the rose bushes, my eyes are most drawn to it. I often feel like one of the crimson blooms among all of the radiant yellow ones. Not better, nor worse, more beautiful or less, just different, yet the same.
With Love,
Russ









