O how much more doth beauty beauteous seem,
By that sweet ornament which truth doth give!
The rose looks fair, but fairer we it deem
For that sweet odour which doth in it live.
The canker-blooms have full as deep a dye
As the perfumed tincture of the roses,
Hang on such thorns and play as wantonly
When summer’s breath their masked buds discloses:
But, for their virtue only is their show,
They live unwoo’d and unrespected fade,
Die to themselves. Sweet roses do not so;
Of their sweet deaths are sweetest odours made:
And so of you, beauteous and lovely youth,
When that shall fade, my verse distills your truth.
Michael thought he’d been most everywhere in the Caribbean. Still, he had never visited Dominica. His father dismissed it as being unexciting and his mother bemoaned that the hotels did not have even a single star to their credentials. Grazi was crazy about the island.
Every time they visited San Juan, she found a way to hop islands to get to her Dominica. They spent plenty of time in the sulpher springs and visited every mineral bath on the island. As long as they had rum, he was along for the ride.
“This place is volcanic… so its alive.”
“The hardships I endure for love.” Michael replied thinking of his mother’s absurd comment. There wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for Grazi. She made all the difference, she was enough.