In a field of red roses by the lake,
A white rose calls up to the sun
With her beautiful petal scarf
And her cheerful smile
Over another field, a tulip stands sad
He is one in the crowd, no one special
“Smart,” some say, “too shy” others may
But he struggles, moving his cheek

The tulip looks at the ethereal rose every day
Wondering how such a flower grew from the floor
An angel’s tears of joy, he might think
A kiss from Gaia, he would have hoped

Tulip doesn’t know much of the rose
And fears never being able to embrace her
He feels that both have too much in common
But his inner parasites would hurt her
For a majestic rose that dances with the moon in the water
Such normal tulip will never have a chance
Her perfect stem is made of silk
His is damaged and made of paper

Still, the tulip dreams
Wishing one day to fly, as his roots would rip
Detaching from the floor, from his forlorn life
Flying towards the star reflected in the lake, where his solitude would end

The white rose doesn’t realize, still
How much he admires her strength, cleverness, and beauty
Until the tulip sends his seeds of love
In the form of this poem and painting

For a more radiant future he fights
Forever aligned with the Astraea of his heart
Because she glows in the night
Inspiring him to be better
And even if the rose doesn’t recognize the tulip
She should know that he is right there
In an everyday battle to talk to her
He is smart and shy, but eager to give all his petals to see her smiling for him

Astraea ascends
for innocence entails love,
goodbyes are the worst.

© Matthew Harlovic

Cast upon the falling sky of Astraea,
The vast star empire of Sindar exalts.

The moon and the Goddess blessed nature,
As roots and the forest caress upon the waterfall.

Where the stones carve the wooden furnishes,
As Mother Earth nurtures the soils and the vegetation.

With thunders clash upon the great sea,
As it ripples into a tsunami and hurricane.

As soft as a petal of roses bloom,
But as sharp as it's thorns she speaks in tongue.

The melody of sweet sweet nectar of the harp she speaks,
And the skies kneel before her tongue.
But vigilant to guard her will.

Such is the mystic aura of her allure,
Like a old folk song enchanted heart,
And silence worthy to hear our beats in chest.

The creature refined by age of time,
More precious than fine jewels of the night sky,
It is the unspeakable beauty eludes us all.

More majestic than the pearls of all of the seven seas,
With not the unicorn or rainbows match the *** of gold she stands,
And like the star she eclipse illumination in the night!

Astraea be blessed,
For we were gifted by her light,
The blessed light of the night.