A rose. So subtle and silent, like a whisper’s breeze. Movements leave no wilting to the pleasures of a modeled hue. Like the sweetness of cinnamon’s taste, such roses blow blossoms into a glimmering glow. Blessed are the secret healing of one’s delicate blossom. Moving through desire, for a peaceful fulfillment. Blowing and swinging through Heaven’s delight.
Violins emanate the backgrounds of the glowing of silkened delights. Sliding back and forth, through the timing of nature’s Earthly chants. Lingering into silent windows of a graceful opening. The invisible breeze marinates, through a delicate taste of blossoms, falling. Leaving behind the stresses of pain’s past.
As the silent awakening of velvet’s texture of healing, begins, the leaves lay quiet, as the night enters into her slumber. Love moves through the embrace of time’s allure. Lay quiet young rose, and let music dress in one’s scent of caramelesque bliss.