In my garden there is a rose bush, it has been there for as long as I can remember. When I was younger my mother would go out and water this rose bush. The roses would bloom beautifully, their bright red petals open and welcoming. The leaves were a vibrant green. It was beautiful and fierce with tiny thorns, sharp as a knife. This rose bush is now wilting. It was abandoned long ago. The now blood red petals are sagging towards the ground. The leaves were dark green with brown edges, what was once beautiful is now just a sad memory. It is fragile and is slowly dying. **************************************************************************************************