How beautiful the petals come, one by one, yet all together – just like amour … moments of passion that spring from the same stem and chain one to another, gently, gently…slowly forming that eerie feeling – love …oh, delicate rose, how strong your pose!
The soft brown curls fell disorderly as the little angel balanced gracefully – as if in thin air…
How lightly does the dew tickle the surfaces … the petals, the leaves – it touches only what life has touched already, the ribbons and threads it does not want… the fragile dew… it must be sweet, though lacking hue!
The angel’s sparkling eyes looked playfully towards the garland – a little hand extended with teasing fingers almost reaching the hanging lei. Impish feathers would create a soft stir among the cherry flowers from the slender boughs. The sky drunken with the clearest blue, margins of gold embraced it.
Love reigns blissfully among the memories and hopes of desire and tenderness … like here, this rose in the middle of this intricate composition of lazy wisteria intertwined with naughty daffodils among the fresh leaves of ivy sprinkled with shy violets … oh, how easy it is to lose our heads!
Not yet caressing it, but very close, the angel’s sprightly eyes had a certain tint – an elusive, darker shade – as if the shadow of a cloudy remembrance was passing by…
Had I only been able to take a hold of that rose – had I been capable to seize those moments and shower my yearnings all over them… they say dew is angels’ tears … alas! the Artist has forgot of them…and I haven’t cried in years!
As the sadly-sweet symphony was veiling the majestic hall, I gazed towards the corner in the ceiling were, among immortal cherry blossoms, a little painted angel had frozen in an attempt to reach the stony garland attached to the golden margins.
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