The Arrival

I am here! I am new! I am alive! 

I am spring, and I am the color of new born green and yellow and blue. 

I am that laughter that erupts from your lips, having tasted the first fruit of the season and the tickles of fresh grass on your bare skin. 

Be merry in the sounds that buzz, and babble, and sing. 

Grow in happiness as the flower does on the hillside and bask in the warmth that is Spring. 


A rose given is a heart received. 

A rose given is a heart received. 

Presented with a blossom of purest devotion, and smelling of the sweet aroma of romance. 

Yet always still a flower of the earth. Made of delicate petals that will droop, and wrinkle, and fall away. 

Knowing the fragility of its own beauty, it covers itself with thorns and tells all to stay away. 

Yet a rose appreciated yields a moment of love. 

And in that moment a flower blossoms into an emotion while its roots dig ever deeper into our hearts.