My Dear Rose

You have been weathered by harsh winds; vicious frosts have torn your perfect petals, yet you remain the most magnificent of crimson.

Light radiating from my face has lifted your drooping frame. And as I gaze upon you – the most beautiful of all flowers - you grow from a once wilted state, upright.

You are now able to see the butterfly; your daily visitor is she. Unlike the butterfly, I have no wings with which to caress you, but my sun gives you warmth by day and my stars give you light by dusk.

As you are shaken by the brutal wind, I stay with you. While the butterfly seeks shelter, I make sure you are not pulled from the soil. My rain falls upon your leaves, which weigh you down to the ground.

In a brilliant blue hue, my eyes sparkle as you bloom. You open wider, sharing your lovely perfume with the butterfly as she flits around beside you.

As days grow shorter, my eyes grow weary and my face colorless; I am weakened by a bitter cold. My gaze becomes shrouded in haze, leaving your beauty blurred, but brilliant.

My tears fall in heavy sheets – sometimes nearly drowning you. My thunder curses, which summons lightening – sometimes nearly striking you.

But perish, you shall not.

While the fickle butterfly tends to lilies and daffodils, what is left of my light shall continue to shine upon you – my rose – prolonging your reign as the most beautiful of flowers.

All my love,

The Sky