flowers [Theme] Page 3

It seems to me that if you wake up early, early, when it is still only the first, such rare rays of the sun break through from under the heavy gray clouds, when the lost wind wanders along the paths in the old park and the sleepy world is still so fresh and lazy, you can see how Summer, collecting the remaining flowers and herbs, says goodbye to nature and, leaving, rustles weightless silk skirts, leaving a subtle, barely distinguishable aroma of tenderness and warmth.

Problems bloom like flowers, and there are always lovers who, instead of flowers, give girls problems.

It's not as easy as it was back in the days when I was five years old and my best friend and I pretended to swap hair like it was helmets on our heads before running out onto the tarmac for a walk. She traded her rope braids for my orphan Annie haircut, and it seemed to us that there was nothing more beautiful than being someone else for a long thirty-five minutes. It turns out that this kind of mobility and vividness of the imagination reaches a peak and begins to fade around the age of thirteen. And yet, in that fitting room, I wanted to be someone else. To be someone in the spaces that surrounded me on all sides.

And if sadness peeps into your window in the evening - accept it as a tired wanderer, drink warm sweet tea and tell how the crimson sunset enveloped the houses with magical light, how the flowers closed their buds before nightfall, and the little bees flew off to sleep, so that tomorrow morning with the first with the rays of the sun again irrigate this world with a scattering of gold.

Almost imperceptible, they simply delight the eye and caress the soul, reminding that true beauty can be different...

Flowers wither, even if you cheer them up.

Riverside, thirty years ago. I imagine being slowly carried up the river, down the river, forward, left, right. A sea of flowers under protection. You are in every bloom, every drop of rain.

Women are fish that men catch for flowers.

flowers and fruits of pleasure.

People pick flowers, - I continued, - and make other people happier ... But what about a flower? Why don't we enjoy it in the meadow, walking around every day? This will make everyone happy - both us and the flowers.

white lily flowers...

in the house next door?

The more pleasant the flowers, the more pleasant it is to crush them.

Loving people are like petals protecting a fragile core. Without them, the flower instantly dies.