This is where the Wild Rose grows, she hangs precariously over a dilapidated rotting wooden fence, and desperately reaches toward the sun and follows its path of light.  Nature steadily inhales carbon dioxide from the atmosphere through her pores, the beautiful petals and the stamen. The leaves and stem yearn for its energy and even as far down to the roots in the form of photosynthesis. This marvel of nature gives her such strength and beauty which in turn gives us more oxygen for us to breathe.  A sadness hangs alongside these blooms that give a tainted perfume and make the world look bright, fruit brambles try to strangle the growth of this wonderful creation, and the ever rampant Honeysuckle attempts to squeeze every ounce of energy out of her it can.  She never gives up, no matter how hard life is for her, she still appears each Summer, spreading her ever lustful tendrils and radiates her cerise blooms with pride like a Tafeta bustle on a Victorian dress. I admire, and tell her to enjoy the miracle that is the sunshine whilst you can, although summer is not finished yet, try to hold on tightly to your elegance as it gently fades, just like we fade with age too. Unlike us, you will be beautiful again, and that wont be long as this named season will soon return.

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‘On the last day I took her where the wild roses grow, the wind was as light as a thief               I kissed her goodbye, I said, “All beauty must die”

Exracted from “Where the Wild Roses Grow”  ….  Nick Cave 1996.