The Rose (poem 2)

The Enchanted Emerald Rose boxes

Within a garden where the shadows sleep,
A strange and precious rose begins to bloom,
Its emerald petals secrets softly keep,
While ruby edges chase away the gloom.

No ordinary flower could wear such green,
Nor hold such fire within its velvet face,
It seems to carry something rarely seen,
A little piece of magic time can’t erase.

Each petal curls around the heart inside,
As though protecting something born of light,
With crimson flames along each emerald side,
A tiny sun awakening through the night.

And every drop of morning dew that falls,
Becomes a jewel upon its ancient skin,
The garden listens when the silence calls,
For something mystical is stirring deep within.

Perhaps this rose has bloomed a thousand years,
Through moonlit nights and summers lost to time,
It may have witnessed lovers, dreams and tears,
And heard the whispered at midnight chimes.

Perhaps beneath its roots there lies a tale,
Of someone who once wished upon a star,
Who followed where the moonlight painted trails,
And found a little magic hidden where they are.

The rose remembers every hand that cared,
Every heart that stopped to look and wonder,
Every soul who thought that hope had disappeared,
Then found a little light beneath the thunder.

For beauty isn’t always soft and pale,
Sometimes it rises fierce from darker ground,
With emerald leaves and scarlet edges telling tales,
Of all the strength that silence holds profound.

It doesn’t ask the world to understand,
It doesn’t need applause to prove its worth,
It simply opens slowly, as if planned,
And shows the hidden treasures of the earth.

So if you should find this rose beneath the moon,
Don’t pluck its petals just to make them yours,
For some enchanted things must bloom too soon,
And magic disappears when we force closed doors.

Stand quietly beside it for a while,
Let every tiny drop of dew remain,
For sometimes nature gives a secret smile,
And whispers things that words cannot explain.

The emerald rose knows hearts can break,
It knows that love can wander, disappear,
Yet still it chooses every dawn to wake,
And prove that something survives the years.

So let it bloom beyond imagination,
A living jewel within the midnight green,
A symbol of hope, strength and transformation,
The strangest, loveliest flower ever seen.

And when the final evening shadows fall,
And stars begin to gather in the sky,
The emerald rose will still outshine them all,
With ruby flames that never quite say goodbye.

For magic isn’t always found in spells,
Or whispered underneath a silver moon,
Sometimes it grows where nobody else tells,
And waits for someone patient to see it bloom.

So let this enchanted emerald rose remain,
A secret held between the earth and sky,
A flower born from beauty, loss and rain,
That teaches even wounded hearts to try.

And should you ever doubt that magic’s real,
Remember this strange rose with colours bright,
For some enchanted things are meant to heal,
And some are born to bring the darkness light.

The world may call it simply just a rose,
But those who truly look will understand,
There are some flowers only mystery knows,
And this one holds enchantment in its hands.

So bloom, enchanted rose, and guard your flame,
Let emerald and crimson tell your story,
For you need no crown, no title, and no name,
Your very existence is your glory.