stirring in the bud,
ready to bloom,
promises and hopes, begin making room.
The first of the color,
emerges and peeks out,
Such a wonderful bloom, so handsome and stout.
Now the bloom is Bursting,
In full glory now it glows,
Coloring the future, with sweet poetry, and prose.
But in the seed of each beginning,
Is also the end,
Programmed in the genes, some rules just won't bend.
Is there a rare flower,
Whose bloom is really eternal?
Is there a bloom among us, whose end is not infernal?