Big Flowers Valley

Ghazal — “Where the Flowers Grow Beyond Their Names”

The valley wakes in peach‑soft light, its mist unspooling slow while a stream whispers through stones in the place where flowers grow beyond their names.

Fuchsia petals rise enormous, warm as breath on skin, their crimson edges glowing bright in the place where flowers grow beyond their names.

Leaves shine with emerald veins, each one a quiet river, carrying morning’s tender weight in the place where flowers grow beyond their names.

Trees stand like patient witnesses, steady in the warming air, their bark rough with quiet years in the place where flowers grow beyond their names.

Small blossoms scatter at their feet, humble sparks of color, content to bloom beneath giants in the place where flowers grow beyond their names.

And I, wandering through this dream of warm green breath, feel the real and imagined lean together in the place where flowers grow beyond their names.