"THE SWEET SCENT OF THE ROSE"

This is a fictional fantasy story about two people meeting on the internet and falling in love across the oceans through internet wires. They eventually meet in Los Angeles, California. The characters are fictional and do not represent any person or event.

Thank you, my music man, for our virtual conversations.

We crossed paths through the internet highway.

We live so far apart.

You live in London, England.

I live in Southern California near LA.

Someday

We shall meet in person

under the sun, the moon, the stars in LA.

I followed a music man once to another country out of LA.

This time my music man must follow me to LA to stay.

Two twin souls making love, throwing kisses in text messages

across the oceans, through internet wires.

You helped me realize I can love again.

I can write. I can produce art.

I can do this on my own.

I can buy myself roses

but we can do this together.

We can draw hearts in the sand.

We can lay on the sand.

We can do this.

We can love, caress in the flesh.

We live. We grow. We proceed or

we forget about it.

The rose is a picture of beauty.

The rose is picture of thorns

that underwrite the climb to the top

to smell the roses.

Roses are a part of life, not just a part of a woman.

We must get stuck by a few thorns before

we smell the beauty of the scent of the rose,

as a part of life.

Art is culture.

Art is a life form of increasing

but sometimes life is characterized by thorny characters

of people who are the thorns

that try to succumb to our very existence.

There are people who try to help.

There are people who discriminate.

There are people who just do not care for one another.

There are people who put others down to make themselves look better.

There are people and there are those who care.

I believe in the universe, omnipotently present to help

to create life, art forms

that exist in my life in the universe of multiverses.

Love is a rose,

Love is in the multiverse of the verses of and reason of the internet.

Love is a rose with thorns to cause your fingers to bleed

if one makes it to the scent of the rosebud.

Love is sweet. Love is a scent of living, of life,

walking through the past, the present, and into the future.

Love is a song, love is music, love is life

when two twin souls meet.

The flames unite in a burst of bright aura around the two

as they meet in LA

under the sun, the moon, the stars

of the sighs of our love.

Our bodies touching, yielding to our desires

of love.

We curl up as one,

Passionate kisses,

Hours of sweet love.

We are twin souls.

Love is real. Love is a rose,

just walking our fingers over the thorns

to heal the wounds of past loves,

Under the covers, love is a rose,

Making love on the beach

on a blanket on the sand.

We touch, embrace,

our second day in person together

under the sun, the moon, the stars, the clouds,

the rainbows, the rain,

as we lay sighing at 3am on the blanket on the sand.

The waves reach our bodies spreading salty ocean water

over our bodies after our sweet smell of the top of the rosebud.

We kiss, stand up, watch the waves undulate towards the shore.

Love is a rose. Love is the sweet smell of the top of the rose.

We walked to our motel room on the beach.

We walked into our room.

We scatter the red roses out of the vase onto our bodies

as we lay on the bed

with our sativa joint.

Love is art. Love is real.

Love is a rose.

We sigh. We caress. We fall asleep laying in our bed of roses.

WRITTEN BY

VICKI LAWANA TRUSSELLI

NOVEMBER 2023

A FANTASY DREAM STORY

LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA