Among the shifting seasons, these tulips remained tucked in, their petals brushed with subtle color but not yet open.
There was something familiar in their stillness, in the way they leaned into one another.
Not everything must unfold at once. Some things take time.
The light would grow stronger. The air would warm. And when the moment felt right, the petals would open—not because they had to, but because they were ready.
Until then, it was okay to remain nestled.
Among the shifting seasons, these tulips remained tucked in, their petals brushed with subtle color but not yet open.
There was something familiar in their stillness, in the way they leaned into one another.
Not everything must unfold at once. Some things take time.
The light would grow stronger. The air would warm. And when the moment felt right, the petals would open—not because they had to, but because they were ready.
Until then, it was okay to remain nestled.
