Mary's Rose Garden

There is a garden in which blossoms revel in sunlight’s divine aura, and glistening dewdrops dance upon petals fine as silk The scent, like the perfume of Aphrodite herself, pervades the air with its aroma-- reminiscent of love and beauty The thorny spines uphold a family of blossoms-- some resplendent in their debut, their petals lustrous with color and heavy with fragrance Others show signs of waning-- their fragile hips, curled and fading, timeworn, but still lovely in their ripeness In this place, Serenity reigns Time is of no consequence There is only the light, the fragrant breeze, and the colors that paint the air with pigments of lavender, mauve, lilac, and blush And if you sit long enough and listen carefully, you may hear, among the sounds of drifting water and a crane’s solitary cry, the sigh of roses content in their quiet existence If you listen… in Mary’s Rose Garden.