The angel sang softly to me
She said “be not afraid of my humble plea.”
The angle gave me a rose and told me to hold on tight.
She said that I would need it for such a long night.
Bright white flashed, than faded out into a feathery mist.
Intimidated by such loyal power, I looked at the rose.
The rose pedals were closed and bunched,
It took form of two blushing lips.
The upper lip was curved up into a smile.
The smell of optimism and promise oozed of the flower,
Sending visions of paradise and fortune to my developing brain.
My nose inhaled the heavenly scent.
The flower was golden it was the key to all happiness.
I thanked the sky and the angle who had blessed me with such a gift.
The flower slowly began to unfold.
Inch by inch a pedal would become wilted and fall to the ground.
The flower couldn’t be destroyed, what would I do without it?
My happiness was being haled by the wind.
It was being stolen right out of my grasp.
Soon enough the flower was only a stem and seeds.
No more dreams of fortune or feelings of optimism.
The angle with her milky white hair appeared in front of me.
Together she clasped our hands.
In the center of our hands laid the seeds of the rose.
“When something dies, another is born.”
With this saying the seeds sunk into the ground.
At the very tip of the ground, lay a hairline fracture of a small stem with a white bud.
“Happiness is like a flower; they grow slowly and die quickly. But the flowers always come back at one point.”