The Rose

There is simply the rose; it is perfect in every moment of its existence.
— Ralph Waldo Emerson

I find that beauty isn’t always obvious. In fact, the beauty that makes you look twice often gets missed at first glance.

A rose is breathtakingly beautiful. The petals are delicate and soft. And while the stem bears thorns it only adds to its desirability; the untouchable that longs to be grasped. It is easy to love a rose as it stands tall and blooms with its intoxicating scent. Its subtle colors and enchanting curves of the petals are used as tools of flirtation and adoration. We toss the petals on beds and bathtubs and use them as a base for passion. Roses are gifted to lovers and used to ask for forgiveness.

But the beauty of a rose doesn’t stop at full bloom. I find intense beauty in a rose just past its prime. It is proof of a life beautifully lived. Each fallen, withered petal has witnessed first kisses, tears of sorrow and long embraces. They have breathed in the promises made by two people in front of families and friends. A wilted rose means that their stem was expertly navigated to overcome the obstacle of the thorns so that it may be picked. The threat of the prick was no match for the longing of the rose.

A rose is perfect at every moment of its existence. Just like you are my love. Just like we all are.

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