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"Gather
the rose
of love
whilst
yet is
time."
-
Edmund
Spenser
"A
single
rose can
be my
garden...a
single
friend,
my
world"
- Leo
Buscaglia
"The
sweetest
flower
that
blows,
I give
you as
we part.
For you
it is a
Rose,
For me
it is my
heart."
-
Frederick
Peterson
1859-1938
"Some
people
are
always
grumbling
because
roses
have
thorns.
I am
thankful
that
thorns
have
roses"
-
Alphonse
Kerr
The Twisted Rose
A garden grew in splendor
inside the wrought iron gate,
Tended by loving hands,
hired by the wealthy owner of this estate.
Along the side a lovely rose
with twisted stems did grow,
When and where it came from
No one seemed to know.
Its beauty was overlooked
due to its twisted stems
The lady of the house
was allowed her high-born whims.
The order to remove the rose
was given, and was swiftly done,
Remorsefully by the hired gardener,
the proud father of a son.
The little boy had twisted limbs
that put frowns of pain upon his face,
But he was loved with passion
and cared for with God's sweetest grace.
The lady looked at the rose
with eyes that clearly said,
Perfection is what I demand
and you are drab as lead!
The gardener's boy had seen this look,
all of his young life,
And the hurt that it caused him,
left pain that cut like knives.
The rose was beautiful to the gardener,
just as was his son,
So he packed it in watered paper
to take when his day was done.
Home it went to be admired
by less critical eyes of his family,
In the ground it was placed and fed
for all the world to see.
Though it never stood straight and tall,
its flowers did give,
The sweetest scent ever smelled
for as long as it did live.
No one there seemed to notice
its bent and twisted stems,
And the rose taught the boy
to overlook his twisted limbs.
Beauty comes not from the surface;
nor from perfection,
It comes from all parts of us,
under God's Devine direction.
~Norma Marek~
© 2001
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