Rose

Faith. Love. Her perfume is fragrant. Three women dance on the rooftop as the thousands below toast the dream of a new day. A shout bloomed in the sky, a warm hue coloring the bleak of winter. Everyone looked so nice. Nothing could ruin this. They’d been there since nine and there was faith and there was love. An old guitarist sips on champagne and chats up a woman in a Spanish costume. She says, “la salchichona,” in her funny little way and no one knows what it means or doesn’t. They floated on an air mattress, lifted up by the bubbles in their beers and the nuzzling in their ears. They smiled at the thrill of their limbs entangled and the tender sirens that commandeered the stage. Someone comes up to laugh, and to hold her because she’s beautiful and he just can’t stay away. God, they thank you for their blessings, they do. There are no hard decisions. There is so much joy the party dies of laughter. It was a few secret meetings in the rose light wobbling to and fro Blushing from the sweet little nothings. Bloated from the sausage and wine. A hundred smiles, just for the harlequin cheer and clap for his three musicians as the lights go out a little, now and then. The lights of the Lapin Agile There’s a life outside the door, for sure. but quickly, They forget.