Dear Flowers,

You are noticeably one of the most beautiful creations breathing silently among us.

Not just pretty to look at, but beneficial for so many tender things.

You bloom in full glory, petals unfurling like whispered prayers to the morning light. 

Your fragrance drifts through air thick with wonder — 

smell so beautiful and flavorful, making everything even more pleasing, more alive, more worth remembering.

And you wither and die, gracefully returning to the earth that birthed you.

The short life span you have — brief as a child's laughter, delicate as first love — you give so much to see, so many quiet lessons scattered like seeds in willing hearts.

There is so much to learn from you.

You teach us that beauty needs no permission to exist, that small things can hold infinite tenderness, that dying is just another way of becoming. 

In your gentle surrender, you show us how to let go without bitterness, how to bloom fully even when time runs short.

You color the world with your fleeting presence — rose-gold sunsets in your petals, ocean depths in your blues, hope itself in your reaching toward light. 

Each bloom a small miracle, each season a chance to love the world a little more fiercely.

When you return to soil and silence, you leave behind more than memory — you leave the promise that beauty will come again, that spring follows winter as surely as breath follows breath.

— Yours in blooming gratitude