Blossom

They say if you love a flower don’t pick it because once it’s picked it will die and cease to be what you loved. This I thought as I passed a single rose on a rose bush. The flower was unlike any other I had seen. With a red that was almost maroon and tips of the night’s black, it was a petal with an ambiguity of beauty.

It was a reflection of the beauty the world swims in. I couldn’t help but think about the most beautiful woman I had seen as I examined the flower. She was so much like the rose in the way this woman made me visualize a beautiful life.

I did not want to be the cause of death to this flower as I did not want to possess this woman as an object of beauty. Although, I fail to resist the urge to pursue the passion that this flower has ignited within me.

Instead of living life picking the flowers I love, I choose to live life as the source of life and growth of all things beautiful. The flowers will not resist waving their petals and they will blush as the man that planted their seeds, quenched their thirst, and provided a loving environment for their beauty to flourish walks by them.

The woman I love will wake every morning fulfilled with love and adoration. Her happiness will be overflowing with every smile and laughter she gives. Her eyes reflecting pure joy and contentment when she lays eyes on the man that allowed her soul the opportunity to blossom into the rose she is. Amidst all of her beauty, she never fails to fear the possibility of his love for her to one day vanish. Her fears dissipate when he caresses her by her thorn-filled stem and holds her tight as he vows to never ease his hold and to never pick his flower.