Ash Rose

I am your tabula rasa.

You imprint your sterling rose on my right solar plexis.

“She’s too young for silver elegance. Make her red or yellow. Let her brightness be primary.”

“Mamma, it’s not silver, it’s grey. It’s protection from the evil eye and forgetting. I can’t let her forget me.”

“A woman of twenty with such silly fears. She cannot lose you any more than she can lose herself.”

“Mamma, people, especially little girls, lose their way every-”

“Do not try to advise me, dear one. If you believe you are lost, trust your guide and open yourself to a new compass.”

I am your tabula rasa.

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