Of white roses and their rarity:
The childlikeness of alleged innocence they exude.
Of the feel, so pure and radiant:
Couple with promises
Resonating with depth.
Of trust and truth of empty eyes:
With a goal in mind,
For discerners to see and receivers to behold.
In bubbles of moments, Chaos carelessly opens an eye.
Of premises and past actions.
A reversal occurs: a chill so sudden has arisen.
Time is frozen, yet a tiny thread of hope is being clung on to-
On the premises displayed long ago.
Of what could have been,
Perhaps, a trick of light and perception.
To some, it’s just a color.
To others: a tale of hope and woes.