A rose she stands, so soft, so bright,
Knowing well the coming night —
The winds will tear, the storm will rise,
And close forever her gentle eyes.
Yet still she blooms without regret,
Her petals kissed by sun still wet —
She lives for love, she sways with grace,
And meets her end with a quiet face.
Not fearing loss, nor fighting fate,
She fills her hours, though brief, though late —
With peace, with hope, with colors spun,
And love — until her days are done.
Apr 9, 2025
Apr 9, 2025 at 2:07 PM UTC
A rose she stands, so soft, so bright,
Knowing well the coming night —
The winds will tear, the storm will rise,
And close forever her gentle eyes.
Yet still she blooms without regret,
Her petals kissed by sun still wet —
She lives for love, she sways with grace,
And meets her end with a quiet face.
Not fearing loss, nor fighting fate,
She fills her hours, though brief, though late —
With peace, with hope, with colors spun,
And love — until her days are done.
Even when life is fragile and short, bloom with love, live with grace, and let the wind carry your story.