What I see: a red rose covered with white crystals as the main focus of the picture, and in the background, what looks like a withered part of another rose flower that didn't make it to bloom.
What I feel: the strength of the blooming rose, its perseverance to withstand the growth, the weight it carries in its blooming petals, the loneliness of the loss of the withered rose, the anxiety of its plucking.
....
"Roses are red, violets are blue,"
We are the roses, in life's vast garden
Plucked when we are due,
Not always by death, or loss,
But by destiny's call.
We rise with the seasons, we stumble, we fall.
At times we wither, at times we bloom,
Spreading gentle love, with each bud,
We bring comfort in sorrow, sweet joy in relief,
A tender companion through moments of grief.
Delicate at the core, yet strong to the end,
Resilient in spirit, able to mend,
Just like a rose can, so do we.
....
Thank you for reading❤️.
