rainfall on roses, petals fall

I grew a rose from cuttings pinched from a loved one's plot, watered at ground-level, not at the top. Dung and mulch kept well away, from stems lest their collars rot. In time, it grew buds that blossomed into flowers, a bounteous bouquet, with bursts of red petals, blood bled. It started with a sprinkle like from a watering can, but grew. into a torrential shower blasting the petals onto the ground, all around the roses, which were stripped bare, to stems, buds, shredded leaves and thorns. I cried to see all my endeavors lost. All my efforts lost in vain to sometimes rain, falling on my roses, with disdain of rain, utter and complete. But, when I looked again I saw the petals all spread out as a lovely bedspread quilt surrounding the stems, on the bare cold ground stained by rain. Their beauty astounding still, with red blooms shed, shredded, departed, garlanded into a ring of petals that arose to save our day.