I claim I want blooms, vibrant
and bright,
But thorny vines always put
up a fight.
What if petals droop, dreams
fall apart?
What if joy's scent is just a
false start?
Why can't I sway in the sun's
warm light,
Instead of stuck in shadows,
fearing the height?
Maybe fear's the gardener in
me,
Snipping joy's buds before
they're set free.
Yet amidst the thorns, a bud
unfolds,
Craving sunlight, breaking
from holds.
Letting go of fear, embracing
the bloom,
For happiness awaits beyond
the gloom.
So, I'll trim the thorns,
nurture the rose,
In life's garden, where
happiness grows.
For amidst the thorns and
beauty's play,
I'll gather courage to seize
the day.