The Whispering Rose

A long time ago I was handed a rose,
such a rose!
like none other I had ever seen or touched,
beautiful beyond comparison,
the rose had not begun to bloom yet,
the pedals were held shut by an unseen force,
the very next day the pedals had opened just enough,
enough to hear words of love and kindness,
gentleness, kindness and affection,
whispered from somewhere inside the rose,
words so beautiful and pure,
something that for me,
was a needful longing being fulfilled,
just for that time,
that particular day,
the second day the pedals had opened a little more,
this time words of encouragement and comfort could be heard,
again the whispers were needed at the time given,
the third day the pedals opened some more,
words of advice and encouragement to try new things,
ideas of exploration poured out of the whispering rose,
words that challenged my heart and soul,
the fourth day the pedals hadn't opened much more than the first three days,
the whispers I heard were those of a pleading heart,
tears started streaming down my face,
all the words I remembered the rose say to me those three days came to mind,
I started repeating them to the rose,
as soon as I did the pedals opened more,
the next day was the fifth day,
I was sick that day,
but the rose's whispers I could still hear,
comforting and oh so soothing,
made that day more easier to bear,
the sixth day was all the first five days wrapped into a most heavenly moment,
words cannot describe that day,
the rose was in full bloom,
the very next day was the seventh day,
the rose, even though fully bloomed,
the whispers could still be heard,
this time words of a revelation,
a revelation of joy and peace,
for the whispering rose is somebody dear to my heart,
the whispering rose is my dear mother!
 

©2008 by CherokeeChosen