Dear My Diary

She opens the page with a petal-soft sigh,

Where thoughts bloom gently and ink learns to fly.

Each letter a whisper, each word a seed—

She pens the flowers and all that they need.

The roses, she says, know how to feel,

They blush in the sun and in the moonlight heal.

They speak in scents, in silken disguise,

Telling their secrets beneath the skies.

The lilies are shy; they bow their heads,

Like girls in white on bridal beds.

She writes of daffodils dancing bold,

And marigolds with hearts of gold.

Each bloom becomes her faithful friend,

Who listens as her musings bend.

A world of petals, calm and wide,

That keeps her dreams and fears inside.

So night by night she writes her truth—

A garden growing out of youth.

With every page, her soul takes flight,

In diary fields kissed by twilight.