Love like a rose

I was working in my rose garden when I heard a faint voice say, "Thanks for the water and food."

"Who's there?" I exclaimed.

And the voice repeated, "Thanks for the water and food."

Even though I was 100 percent sure I was alone, I quickly turned around to scan my back yard for an intruder and, "Ouch!" I snagged my arm on a thorn drawing blood.

"We're sorry!" Said the same faint voice.

Unaware I was speaking aloud, I spoke back to the voice, "Huh? Who are you and why are you thanking me and saying you are sorry?"

"We are your roses. We know how much you love us, so we put all our roots and branches together and amassed the energy to speak your language. Sorry about the thorns. We wouldn't do anything to hurt you. Our thorns are just necessary to protect us from animal predators."

I knelt before them, loving all of them, the pinks, the reds, the whites, the oranges and the yellows, and breathed in their sweet scent. It was I that was grateful for them, for their beauty and the lesson they taught. Like a rose, love is beautiful and sometimes painful.