The Merchant of the Rose
A humble merchant of meager beginnings delivered roses every morning & every afternoon. He worked dusk to dawn insuring the supply of splendors would reach hearts & minds.
The merchant didn’t always cling to roses for money. He once treasured them for their art and beautiful essence. But the loss of the one he loved those years ago, had changed all. The allure of the rose had faded from him. The thorns became the momentous parts of the flowers that existed without bloom.
One summer morning, not long after the sunrise, he walked towards the café and noticed a familiar glance. It was that face, the daughter of the moon; the face he had seen in the mist of every crowd, every song lyric, and every poem. It was she. Within a flurry of emotions, the merchant said:
“Here we are at last; the years of distance have gone. Here we are where our hearts said we would be.
Here we stand filled with every hope & wish. Let me take your hand, through these frozen moments as if time had remained loyal and patient.
Let us walk towards this new world, on the road of second chances- a road without end. Let’s make an ally out of time & turn the grey twilight into the sun of every tomorrow.
Let me hold you, inside this embrace is every promise that we meant. Dance with me. Let us remain in this forever sphere of love; for it’s in every rose that I’ve delivered that I was introducing the world to –My Forever Rose.”
–a short poem by Whilly Bermudez