As the days grow long
And nights shrivel to hours
The feeling of little sunflowers
In the eversinking sunlight
Bloom softly among
Lonely, setting summer skies

Kindness is like rain to a thirsty tree. When kindness touches a heart, it breathes new life into it, and makes it bloom with love and joy.

Hussein Dekmak

You can't make a flower bloom.
You can shine all you want
but it won't open
until it's ready.

The rose of love withered on the vine
In lifeless disposition she'd remain
Her syrupy nectar slowly did decline
A bewailing sorrow in ending twain
No recapture of a past happiness
The petals perished browning to dark
Disappearing elation's gleefulness
A flower's heart minus her loving spark
Without the touch of fondness on the bloom
Her brilliant brightness faded well away
Those wondrous days were replaced by gloom
Sombre melancholy of saddest pall's shay
As dusk's hour turns to the dying closeness
Reflect on the rose's mood of dimness

where do you go
when you shrink yourself
so small?

sometimes i imagine
when you shrink
into this fragile thing,
in some far away place
the pieces of your self you hid
are growing exponentially,
a garden in full bloom.

Your tender words caress my face
and seep into my skin.
Soft soliloquies, quiet rhymes, rhythmic patterns,
they swirl in my mind
and are painted behind my eyelids while I sleep
or as I think of you and smile.
The whisper of your fingertips
reminds me of the brush of your pen
and the tumultuous emotion from each word
brought forth from your mind.
Your poems of love impart a sweet nostalgic ache
for the passion I'd never felt
until your words flooded my thoughts
and allowed deeply seeded flowers to grow into a full bloom.

And I think
maybe it is not you I fell for,
but the sweet, sweet, song you sing.

Summer rain descends to the ground
Hope rests on each droplet
And you watch as it fades into your skin  
Slowing your anxious pulse
As you waltz with the idea of blooming

When eggshells become sand
and the tide just another reminder of the glass
being half empty, not full,
it is time to take a step back and reminisce on
the spring flowers blossoming from detritus.