
Siros π©
@siros62
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In the silent chill of the rocks,
where even the wind dares not whisper,
a flower bloomed.
There was no soft soil,
no flowing waterβ
only silent, unyielding stone.
Yet she came,
small and quiet,
casting color upon the gray,
offering her scent to the weary air,
and stoodβ
so firm, it seemed the earth drew strength from her.
To bloom among stones
is to be hope,
to be life,
to be the gentle defiance that whispers:
βIt is possible,β
even when the world says no. 0 reply
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