Life is not permanent but feelings are

Life+is+not+permanent+but+feelings+are

They were seeds: young, impressionable, but full of possibilities. Plated in soil, full of good intentions. Their future was just that — not daunting or scary, just there. And just like seeds, They had roots shooting out from every side of them. Friendship, love, possibilities. They grounded themselves on beautiful, simple things. 

They were stems full of hope and just starting to explore the world and all it has to offer together. They had leaves so delicate that only spring butterflies could land on them, much like the ones in her stomach; the last gleam from the dropping sun draped them in a feeling of warmth as if the sun was promising them that it would rise again in the morning so they could see each other one more.

They were a flower bud on the brink of full bloom. The colors of the world seeped into their petals. Like the pastel yellow of the chalk they used to play with or the vibrant blue like the color of the ocean they swam in. Each day passed and they only got more beautiful. As their petals spread apart to let in the light of their surroundings, they only became closer. 

They were a fully bloomed flower at the peak of life. Her smile lights up around him like the sparkles of her rose gold shoes that he liked so much. Their petals stood tall like their expectations of love and their colors more lively than the sky they used to lay under. 

The colors of the world seeped into their petals. Like the pastel yellow of the chalk they used to play with or the vibrant blue like the color of the ocean they swam in.”

They were a seed, and they were a stem, and maybe if they remember correctly, they were a flower fully bloomed and gorgeous to look at. 

But life is not permanent, and the youthful seeds they once were planted in the soil of good intentions became nothing but a fond memory as the petals they grew together got blown away by the winds of growing up too fast. And the roots they once relied on were dried out by the cold stare of winter; it soon seemed there was no trace of their flower, just dirt mulled over as if the flower never existed.  

But nothing is ever really gone, and maybe, just maybe, one day, their flower would leave the very ground that made it will become part of new soil that will bloom new flowers with even brighter petals and even stronger passion.