THE ROSE It began as a tiny bud, the promise of its beauty and delicate fragrancehidden within tender young leaves that enfolded and protected its essence.Kissed by rain in the springtime of its life,the rose felt the stirrings of its purpose;reaching toward the warmth and light,the petals opened in answer to its song.Drawn by its perfume, passersby paused to search for the source;enchanted by its radiance, they caressedsoft velvet and were blessed.In innocence the rose existedfor the sheer joy of existence,unmindful of the benediction it bestowed on all it touched.With grace and beauty by love disposedit followed its destiny, petal and thorn.In predawn stillness the gardener cameto gather the rose, though not full-blown.Teardrops of dew clung fast to the leavesand half-opened petals of scarlet hue.With loving care the gardener smiledthen pressed the rose to his hear