Snapping photos with my compact camera as I walked along the street, I came upon this chrysanthemum. It and its neighbour were the only flowers in a scrappy flower bed, hard up against the wall of a building, a little golden beauty.
I saw the raggedy edges of the outer petals with the flower past its prime. And I thought how lovely the flower was, raggedy edges or not.
Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale her infinite variety
Said by Enobarbus about Cleopatra and her infinitely interesting character and moods, in Shakespeare’s Antony And Cleopatra Act 2, scene 2
And here is the neighbouring flower: