🌿 “New Buds”

Between the bars, new buds climb 
soft, unafraid of the dark metal lines.
They do not rush the sun,
they reach gently, one breath at a time.

Love is like that, too
not always the bloom,
but the quiet holding on
when the heart feels pruned.

Some stems twist through pain,
some leaves heal in light,
and still, the buds appear
tiny proofs that endings
can cradle beginnings right.

If your roots are trembling,
let them.
If your heart feels bent,
remember:
the vine does not stop growing
just because it’s been bruised.
It learns where to lean,
and keeps choosing life. 🌱