Old Rose ... for Linda

I have been drying out this rose for the last two months, with a blip in mind. Today was the day.

We said farewell to Linda. I mentioned her in my entry last Wednesday. Her coffin was covered with a stunning arrangement of red roses, and as part of the tributes, a family friend sang, unaccompanied, "My love is like a red, red rose". A very moving moment, lots of tears.

She left us too soon, but for her, it is now far better.

O my Luve's like a red, red rose
That's newly sprung in June;
O my Luve's like the melodie
That's sweetly play'd in tune.

As fair art thou, my bonnie lass,
So deep in luve am I:
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
Till a' the seas gang dry:

Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear,
And the rocks melt wi' the sun:
I will luve thee still, my dear,
While the sands o' life shall run.

And fare thee weel, my only Luve
And fare thee weel, a while!
And I will come again, my Luve,
Tho' it were ten thousand mile.

Robert Burns, 1794

S