none of these roses are mine.
all of them are utterly delightful.
a gardener was dead heading them, and gave me an armful of petals to take home and dry.
my bag has never smelt so amazing, and I felt like a princess as I scattered rose petals whenever I went to get out my purse, or my keys.
This one looked like tissue paper,
As the sun warmed them, the intense perfumed scent drifted through the air,
and as I wandered through them I wondered if the warm sun, the intoxicating scent and the magical colours could be captured and saved up for colder, wetter greyer days.
come November, or maybe mid February I shall come back here, and check, and then I'll let you know.