A Garden of Fireborn Tenderness

They open not in soil,

but in flame.

Each petal formed by breath and fire,

each curve a trace of silence caught in glass.
 

Some of these flowers carry a heart of heritage gold —

a fragment of Venetian alchemy, sealed forever inside.

Others bloom without gold,

their centres glowing with different nuances of light.

Together they weave a garden of contrasts:

some radiant, some quiet,

all carrying the same invisible thread.

Bloom is not an accessory.

It is a flower that will never fade —

tenderness sculpted into permanence.

A symbol you do not wear to decorate, but to remember:

that what is fragile can also endure,

and what is fleeting can become eternal.