(This story is written strictly for the free enjoyment of fans of the "Beauty and the Beast" television series. No copyright infringement is intended.)

Two Roses

Angie

Only connect the (p)rose and the passion,
And both will be exalted.

- with apologies to E.M Forster

Two mature rose bushes grew in the garden of the brownstone, on either side of a narrow pebbled path.

They were cut back with deliberation in the late fall, stood grey and stark under the winter sky. Then each spring they began to grow, stretching out slim green fingers and uncurling pale green leaves. By early summer, both bushes had become a tall, thick fan of dark leaves on barbed green branches, each ending in a large bud. As the summer warmed, the taller of the two stretched out an arm, topped with an extravagant white blossom, towards the smaller bush. It in turn, reached out with a luscious, but slightly smaller red blossom. By mid-summer, the blooms were touching tentatively across the pathway.

She stood by the window. Every year, she watched as the roses mirrored the story of their love. Now it was late summer. The rose bushes were caught in a last clinging embrace. Red and white roses together meant unity – a melding of love and passion.

She sighed as she felt him come up behind her. He encircled her with an arm and drew her to him. She leaned her head against his broad chest as they gazed out at the roses together. When she looked up at him at last, he bent down to plant a soft kiss on her lips.

"Forever," he whispered

"Forever," she agreed.

They glanced out at the garden again, as a breeze shook the heavy blossoms. A few petals floated down to carpet the pathway in a red and white mosaic, catching the mellow light of the setting sun.

They turned to each other then, their eyes affirming a silent need. Wordlessly, he gathered her in his arms and carried her to their bower, there to confirm a love that would never know a frost.

END