As you know, I love roses. I love them even when they are dying, like these ones. There is something beautiful, yet slightly macabre about gorgeous red roses in their final stages of bloom.
Maybe it’s a cliché but roses really are like a metaphor for love in real life….first, the precious rose-bud like the thrill of new romantic love, then there is the full blown blooming gorgeousness of long-life-together-kind-of-love represented by roses in full bloom. Then, finally the graceful and bitter-sweet love found in appreciating something and thinking it beautiful through its final stages of life, while decaying and dying…somehow fragile yet still achingly beautiful. I am sure a poet wrote about it….