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The Beautiful Roses by Samantha Watson
I love roses. When I was about three years old, when I was at my grandmother's house and staying over, usually, it was just when the sun came up, I would get dressed, put on my shoes and go down to the rosebush, and sit down to admire the roses. Red, white and yellow, I'd smell the roses each one either fresh maple syrup or pancakes or honey.
Each year when they would bloom, I would run outside and go look at the rosebush. They would bloom new and fresh, gentle as a pillow, you would feel each peddle and think you were in heaven. Then my grandmother would come out and take my hand and we'd head in and eat some breakfast. Blueberry pancakes with fresh maple syrup that would remind me of the roses. |