Still She Bloomed. Poem by WIN VENTURA

Through storms that bent
her fragile stem,
through restless nights
and skies grown dim,

A tiny rosebud tried to rise,
beneath the rain-filled angry skies.

But every time
her bloom would start,
the world would tear
her hope apart.

The bugs would bite,
the rats would gnaw,
the cruel winds came
without a pause.

Again she tried,
again she fell,
through seasons hard
she knew too well.

Yet deep within
her thorns and pain,
she held the dream
to bloom one day.

So gently then
I hid her near,
inside another plant so clear.

Away from storms,
away from harm,
I kept her safe
within calm arms.

And one soft dawn
through light and rain,
that wounded rose
stood up again.

At last she bloomed—
so proud, so bright,
a quiet victory
after every fight.

For some flowers bloom
not because life was kind,
but because someone protected
their fragile light inside.

By: WIN VENTURA