The rose
One day in early summer, a beautiful rose, in a well kept garden, was waking up to the gentle light of the morning sun. It was a pink rose. Not a faded sad pink but a bright vivid pink. The sun tickeled her so nicely with his warming rays of golden light, that she shook ever so gently so that the dew droplets trickeled off of her velvet petals. She felt ready for the day, or was she? As she stood there, and was swaying in a soft breeze that came her way, she became aware of her petals being folded inwards just a little. By feeling this she felt the sudden need to stretch and open her petals fully just to see how it would feel to let the sun penetrate into her very core where her pollen had been waiting on little antennas, reaching up, up. She felt that the warmth of the sun was helping her to open, as if all her petals were relaxing. Oh that felt so nice. When the light reached her pollen she felt a song starting from within. A song that made her pink even brighter and the antennas on which the pollen rested, stretch up even more. If she had known it was so nice to completely unfold, she would have done so on her first day of flowering. The singing continued and she hoped with all her core that the sun could hear her song as she was sure it was a song of gratitude. And when the breeze came to move her again, she was ready to let her pollen go, as a gift to life. Knowing she would live not only at her little spot in the garden, but also wherever the wind would take her pollen. 'So that's how life grows' she said to herself and enjoyed every moment her own beauty and fragrance lasted all the more.
Enjoy your sunday!