The aroma of the rose petal childhood memories, of making perfume on long summer days free of anything to do except dream and be.
Upon a late summers day, when rose petals flowed as bonny boats, my dreams became their happy of passengers; onward, onward, to the world beyond.
A rose petal may be temporary in each warm weather season, yet eternal in the memory of love, enough to span the ages.
As a girl I would treasure the rose petals given by the summer sun in those long seasons of freedom. I loved their aroma. For me they were perfume. Each time I held them I fell in love with their fragrance all over again.
I guess they were miracles to me, the rose petals, as if conjured by a vivid dream and made real.
The rose petals were the bright confetti of the summer months, grown from the sweetest of buds to open with such confidence under the warm sun.