She is like a tulip🌷

She is like a tulip—

not the rose with its obvious allure,

not the sunflower with its easy joy,

but something softer,

something quieter,

yet equally powerful. 

A tulip blooms in its own time,

not rushing,

not demanding attention,

but when the world begins to thaw,

when the frost begins to retreat,

there she is—

standing tall,

delicate yet strong,

her petals folded tightly,

protecting something inside. 

Like the tulip,

she carries her beauty

not on her sleeves

but deep within,

and only those patient enough

to wait for her to open

will see the full breadth of her heart.

She doesn’t unfold for everyone—

and why should she?

Not everyone understands

the value of something so fragile,

so rare. 

Her roots are deep,

grounded in soil

that has been through winters,

that has weathered the storms.

She may appear delicate on the surface,

but her strength lies in what is unseen,

in the way she stands firm

even when the winds blow,

even when the world tries to bend her.

She knows how to survive,

how to bend without breaking,

how to bloom when the time is right. 

The girl, like the tulip,

has learned that opening too soon

can leave her vulnerable,

that not every season

is meant for growth,

and sometimes the hardest thing

is to stay closed,

to wait,

to protect what is tender. 

But when she does bloom—

oh, when she blooms—

it is a quiet kind of beauty,

a beauty that doesn’t shout

but whispers,

drawing you in closer,

inviting you to see

what lies beneath the surface.

She is not a flower

meant for grand displays;

she is a tulip,

meant to be admired up close,

by those who take the time to see her. 

Her colors are soft,

but they are rich—

a palette of emotions

painted across her petals.

She holds grief and joy

in the same breath,

and in her, there is the understanding

that beauty and pain

can coexist,

that you do not have to choose one

over the other. 

Like the tulip,

she rises after the cold,

after the hard days,

and she does not rush her blooming.

She knows that her time will come,

that when the sun warms the earth again,

she will lift her head

and open herself

to the world. 

And though her bloom may not last forever,

though she knows that all things

must come to an end,

she still stands,

still opens,

still reaches for the light

because that is what tulips do—

and that is what she does, too. 

In her, there is the quiet resilience

of a flower that has known winter

but chooses to bloom again.

There is grace in her opening,

in her vulnerability,

in her soft but steady strength.

And in every petal that unfolds,

there is a story,

a life,

a beauty

that is hers and hers alone.