"In a garden of shadows, one petal takes flight,
A crimson rebellion against the dim light.
Rooted in earth, yet yearning for sky,
The red flower blooms as the seasons go by.
Her heart is a furnace, a vibrant, deep hue,
Drenched in the silver of morning’s soft dew.
She offers her nectar, a sweet, sacred vow,
To the sun who has kissed her on leaf and on brow.
Her love isn’t quiet; it’s a silent, fierce roar,
A pulse in the garden, an open, red door.
Through storms that would bend her and winds that would tear,
She holds to her passion, a bloom like a prayer.
For to love is to burn, and to burn is to glow,
In the secret, deep places where only roots go.
She withers in time, but her essence remains,
A scarlet reminder that love breaks all chains.
