Let me pick those dull daisies
Supplant those with roses and lilies
Take the agony and sadness away
And I'll replace it
With ravishing orchids
As you do the same thing
With these flowers in my head

Let me pour love
And watch you bloom
As the sun shines directly
Towards us two
Continue growing with me
Even days are blue
This love will g r o w --
And so us, too

within the grit of the gentle white
buried within the ***** of the roots
lay life between its silent slumber
while the outward burns to frost-ly breath
all the buds lay in cozy sleep
some think that Tis time to outshine
while the rabbits lay burdened to sleep
and bud and bloom midwinter too soon
their jealousy their end their doom.
as time makes brittle corpses of the children of sin
when the sun melts through the dense white reality
The well-rested princes and princess do rise

I’ve kindled my body back into the earth. She stretched her arms wide and embraced me tenderly. I have time to tend to my garden again and I’ve seen what it really means to bloom. Vulnerability, once cataclysmic to the garden, became the set of seeds that were worth waiting for. Welcomed by the soil, the sky and the clouds, my flowers and my fruits grow in abundance.

my dear, do not worry
too often
your flower is still young —
green, barely has it rooted.
the time will come
you will flourish,
as it will bloom.

Just like rain drops
my tears fall
watering seeds sown
from my past.
Before too long
they will flower
into wonderful opportunities,
stunning all those who see,
never knowing the damaged roots that lay underneath.
For you see the colourful bloom reached for the sun,
Illuminating the world in a sea of colour,
ready to take on life's next adventure.
Just like rain drops
my tears fell
watering seeds sown
ready to bloom into wonderment.

It may be difficult
For a flower to bloom
But it withers
In a little while

When the last drop of youth
Has been sipped
And we become nothing
But struggling, boring adults—

You'll look back
At this moment
And wonder if you
Bloomed well

Because nothing
Hurts more
Than realizing
That you are

Just a wilted flower
From the start

Never bloomed
Never blossomed
An unfolded flower—
From the very beginning

That night I bloomed at midnight.
My whole short existence I open my petals when the Sun wakes me, but that night the Moon was shining so bright he fooled me, and when i opened my eyes, it was too late; I was enchanted.
It was love at first sight. In the first second my blushing face got shined upon by his white light, that gentle brother of the Sun, the mirror of the Sun's burning soul, the guardian of the night sky, he has sung with the hushed song of crickets and owls. My roots trembled in the ground, my thin body shivered from the thrill in the cool breeze, my two tiny leaves stretched out in his direction. At that moment I realized that all my life I've been devotedly stretching out my fragile neck to the Sun, and only now, when he slept, I was able to see the thousands of small Suns, twinkling in the far away vastness high up in the sky. I breathed in the night air and realized how much sweeter and softer it was from the daytime air, and I felt the dew forming between my petals. You could almost hear the call of my brothers and sisters somewhere in the unreachable fields of the universe....
And now, as the whole forest sleeps, I watch the never ending fields of the shining sky flowers with my small, green soul, and they are so far that they become nothing but specks of glittering star dust, I can see the buds of the galaxies curiously blooming thousands of light years away, as the others wither away. And so it goes on forever, without end, the universe growing into the nothingness of space.
And it all began with a small flower who, the first amongst the brave ones, dared to bloom alone.

I observed outside the windowpane in contemplation while marveling at the nature between the radiant sunray, and the blooming myrtle.  My coffee was brewing in the French press I have owned for as long as I could remember. The view of the garden gave me the impression of a pastel dream, a melancholy longing for some forgotten reminiscence.