Greetings from the eighth-grade class at Ligon Middle School, in Raleigh,
North Carolina, USA.  One of our favorite spots is the Raleigh Rose Garden.
We hope you enjoy our writing and that you see "through our eyes."

Walking down the cracked cobblestone steps is like entering the Garden
of Eden - magical and isolated.  The brown wooden benches, nestled in the
shade of trees, offer a quiet place to rest.  Uneven, weathered stone
lures visitors toward a clearing.

Before reaching the clearing, pairs of stone pillars fall in like
soldiers to define a curved pathway leading into the garden.  Boards
overhead connect them and hold roses, which creep over the pillars like a
sea retaking the land.

In the middle of the rose garden stands a fountain with a young boy
holding a lily pad, like a waiter  would carefully hold a tray.  Water
flows from the child's hand.  The fountain's elegant grace accents the
rose's subtle beauty.

Roses, the centerpiece of the garden, conjure up mental images of love,
passion, and sometimes classical music or a night at the opera.  They are
like the explosion of fireworks reflected off a lake at night.  The roses
grow in a chaos of bushes and well-tamed, picture-perfect beauty.  Before
they unravel into absolute perfection, the petals stay tightly closed, like
a box or present unwilling to reveal its prize.  Slowly, slowly, they draw
back the curtain to unveil the main star.  Once they open, the perfume of
roses fills the air, pushing heavily but weighing nothing at all.  Like a
letter received from an old flame, spiced with a dash of scent.

Walking slowly away, resisting the temptation to hover here longer, I
trudge   through the  wall of trees and glance back at the tranquility of
the rose garden of Raleigh. 

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