Golden hush of morning light,
you open like a held breath released—
petals cupping the sun,
a quiet fire glowing at your heart.
Red whispers ripple inward,
as if dawn left its signature there,
and the breeze pauses
to listen to your color speak.
You bloom without asking,
teaching the world this simple truth:
beauty doesn’t shout—
it stands, radiant, and lets the light find it.
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