The garden men and boys with their penny-farthings cycle around gathering the ashes of their fallen friends. Then they use them to grow new life, flowers, and sometimes even memory trees. Their duty is to turn urns of love into beautiful roses. Not all of the flowers grow to be large, some just remain very small colourful roses. They decorate the urns with the art and words their friends made in life, to honour them, remember them. Some in your ancient times would leave the reins of a goat as a viaticum, so their friends could rise and race back to us. But is it fair, or even possible? When all is said and all is done… all we ever need is a Wee Rosie. “I left a rose at the bottom of the Big Black Sea For you. From me. I haven't uttered a sound since you set me free I wish I was you And you felt like me”. Rico 1971 – 2022