Anonymous roses

Anonymous roses

Red roses offered by anonymous hands rest against a sun-cracked log on a beach empty of everything but the indents and whorls of a thousand feet tempted by early spring sun. A vast stretch of deserted sand backs away from a bouquet the colour of kissed lips. Some would say the colour of blood, but the placement of the stems, leaning up to the light, speak of reverence.

Perhaps an act of love, or one of contrition, took place. Passersby can light the match of their imaginations and dream worlds of their own.

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