Rosey dreams here

Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,
Old Time is still a-flying;
And this same flower that smiles today
To-morrow will be dying…

To the Virgins, to Make Much of Time

(Robert Herrick, 1648)

Upon the earth, fair roses bloom and rise,
Their crimson hues do paint the morning skies.
With gentle thorns, they guard their tender grace,
As sunlight doth caress each velvet face.

In quiet splendor, ‘midst the world’s loud din,
Their fragrant breath doth soothe the soul within.
Though fleeting be their beauty’s sweet repose,
Eternal art resides within the rose.

We Bloom Like Roses

Actually, people just like roses, living together in this chaotic society, but without losing our thorns, our boundaries. Everyone tries to grow higher for sunshine,reaching toward hope and warmth despite the storms that come. We bloom in different colors and shapes, each unique yet connected by the same roots beneath the soil. Though challenges prick us, our resilience shines through, reminding us that beauty and strength can coexist—even in the busiest, most unpredictable gardens of life.

Some Thoughts about the Roses and Thorns