You laugh at them. You point your finger and call them a fool. Their silence amuses you, their gentleness becomes your joke, and the crowd joins your laughter as if kindness were weakness. It feels enjoyable today, sweet on your tongue like careless victory. Their patience becomes your stage, their humility your entertainment. But time is a quiet witness. It watches without speaking, It writes its lessons slowly in the turning pages of life. A day will come When laughter turns into tears. The echoes of your mockery will return to your own ears like thunder across an empty sky. Situations will arise without warning, storms without hands to beat you Yet heavy enough to break your pride. Pain will arrive quietly, And you will feel the trembling of a heart that once laughed too loudly. And that fool, that funny person you once mocked, may stand in the distance, not laughing, but witnessing your tears, your shaking voice, Your falling ego. For life has a patient way of bending the tallest p...
A rose awakened in gentle light,
Petals soft as a whispered vow.
It carried hope in shades of red,
A promise made to now.
No thorn was sharpened by old pain,
No leaf remembered rain.
It bloomed for hands not yet entwined,
For joy untouched by yesterday’s stain.
Its fragrance spoke of first-time smiles,
Of laughter finding air.
Of hearts that meet without defense,
Unafraid to care.
This rose was born for new beginnings,
For love, still learning how to stay.
For happiness that grows in trust,
Not rushed, but finds its way.
It bends toward warmth, not memory,
Toward mornings yet to be known.
A simple truth in velvet form:
Love blooms best when freshly sown.
So place this rose where hope resides,
Where joy has room to breathe.
It is not rooted in the past—
It blooms for what will be. πΉ
© 2025 Gloria Penelope
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