In the morning's soft embrace, they bloom,
Whispering secrets in the silent room.
Petals painted by the dawn's first light,
In hues that banish the remnants of night.
Their fragrance weaves through the gentle air,
A dance of scents, delicate and rare.
Each flower a poem, a verse so sweet,
A tale of beauty, from root to leaf.
In gardens vast or a meadow wild,
Each flower blooms like a joyful child.
Their petals kiss the morning dew,
And in that moment, the world renews.
They speak in colors, a silent art,
Touching the soul, healing the heart.
Their life is brief, a fleeting grace,
Yet in their beauty, we find our place.
For flowers teach us in their bloom,
That even in life’s briefest room,
There’s wonder in the smallest things,
And joy in what each new day brings.
So let us cherish their fleeting stay,
For flowers are dreams in nature’s play.
They remind us, in their quiet hours,
Of the transient charm that life empowers.