These roses have lived
through stormy times,
resolutely pursuing
their own will.
And they continue to bloom beautifully,
with vitality and dignity.
Their colour never fades,
bathed in warm light.
Even when cold winds blow,
they do not bow , they rise, firm,
as if each petal held memories
of an old love, of an eternal promise.
They grow among stones, in silence,
but their scent speaks loudly to those who listen.
They are witnesses of time,
blooming not by chance, but by choice.
YOU ARE READING
illusions
Poesia"This is where I write down my thoughts and ideas about various topics that pique people's curiosity."
