There is a quiet grace in the withering.

in every curled petal, a memory.

in every faded hue, a story.

these flowers, thought aged, still speak of elegance because true beauty doesn't bloom for a moment, it endures.

I waited for them to fade, to wrinkle, to dry, to fall apart, because only then did they reveal the kind of beauty I was looking for.

© Laredo Montoneri