My sweetie gave me a bouquet of flowers for my birthday last week. Already the rose is wilting and drooping.
Another reminder. Everything changes.
As Mary Oliver writes:
Doesn't everything die,
at last
and too soon?
Oh, do you have to go so soon?
Too soon for me, but maybe not for the rose, which is unwinding according to the conditions of its life.
Monday, December 12, 2016
Wilting Rose
Labels:
change,
death,
die,
impermanence,
Mary Oliver,
rose,
wilted
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