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Bloom
Bloom
She rises quiet as morning rain,
soft footsteps through the tender plain,
her spirit roots in fertile ground,
where whispers of her strength are found.
Her eyes, like dawn, begin to glow,
revealing skies the soul may know,
each tear she shed became a stream,
that nourished hope, and fed her dream.
Her laughter drifts, a fragrant breeze,
that stirs the heart like dancing trees,
she wears her scars as jeweled art,
a blossom growing from the heart.
The world leans close to watch her shine,
her petals etched in bold design,
she teaches life with every breath,
that beauty thrives in loss, not death.
At last she blooms, complete, divine,
a tapestry of earth and time,
a woman’s grace, both fierce and true,
a garden made of morning dew.
