A few last words on behalf of the tulips -
* I thought something had died when I looked out of the window this morning. Pieces of red strewn this way and that. Bold stains on shy concrete. Red enough to make the bricks blush. Thankfully the victim was only the tulips - given up the ghost for another year, petals thrown to the wind.
* An evening wind teases fallen tulip petals. Spins them in ever decreasing circles - their red deepens as the light retreats.
* They looked like they should taste of burnt cherry. They look like they should feel pain. Unashamed to fall apart so publicly. I wish we could live like tulips. Not for long, but vividly, bravely. I wish I could burn myself into memory and leave bloody fingerprints on your page.
Out with the old, in with the new. Some plastic wrapped blooms that sit pretty in a vase on a windowsill. And they too draw me in. Into their light filled rooms, their hearts bursting with sunshine and serenity. Delightful, but nothing like their wilder cousins.