24/05/2026
๐ง๐๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐ฌ๐๐๐ ๐ข๐ ๐ ๐๐๐ข๐ช๐๐ฅ
๐๐๐ผ๐๐ ๐๐: ๐๐๐๐ฟ ๐๐๐๐๐ผ๐๐๐๐ (๐พ๐๐๐ผ๐๐๐๐)
The petals fall, the colors fade,
The bloom retreats, the stem decays.
Yet hidden deep within the flower
Lie fragile things that still hold power.
A seed is small enough to miss,
A quiet remnant born from bliss.
But tucked within its fragile frame
Exists the start of life again.
The flower does not mourn the end,
Nor beg the seasons not to bend.
It simply lets the old parts go
To make room for what waits below.
I think that people do this too:
Outgrowing versions they once knew.
Leaving behind what could not stay
To form new parts of who theyโll be one day.
Some endings ache like winter air,
Like empty rooms and unanswered prayers.
Yet even loss can still create
The seeds of lives that lie in wait.
Perhaps becoming is not grand,
Not fireworks or perfect plans.
Perhaps itโs learning, after pain,
How to begin yourself again.
via Charlain Angelique Jover
Art by Angel Lorraine Cantara
***
โWith love, Sundaysโ is USA Publicationsโ weekly corner: your companion of poems, stories, reflections, and confessions.
Got something to share? Submit your work here: https://forms.gle/acdMNLwZCmn9TuYp8
Check out our monthly Spotify playlist here: https://tinyurl.com/4cuwrerb