"But he that dares not grasp the thorn

Should never crave the rose"

--Anne Bronte

Part One: Not All Thorns Have Roses

It was not my broomstick. It was not my window. It was not my pillow. It was not my rose. It was not my handwriting. They were not my words. But those stolen treasures, used to gain entry and lay treasure like the head of my love, they contained all of my heart.

Dearest Flower,

A rose, by any other name, would still be a rose. I cast it away. I give it to you as the eternal symbol of love. There is little else I can give you. You, already, are the true keeper of my heart. I should give you everything that I own if you would take it. Given a vault of gold, I would sniffle. Offer me the vela and I will decline. If present with a garden full of roses I would turn away. It is not daisies, nor pansies, nor lavender that I crave. Give me but a single Lily and my heart is satisfied.