The sun still shines, the breeze still calls,
The rain still taps, the silence falls.
And when the moment feels just right,
The petals burst, a gift to sight.
The seed has slept, the world has spun,
The waiting game is nearly done.
The petals stretch, the colors gleam,
Awakening from winter’s dream.
It did not rush, it did not break,
It bloomed when time was sure to take.
A lesson whispered through the air—
Some things must wait to grow so fair.
The soil cradles the seed,
the seed cradles a secret.
It knows it can bloom.
Knows the sun will greet it,
the rain will nourish it,
the bees will come.
Yet still,
it waits.
Because blooming is not just survival—
it is choosing to step into the light.
