Astral Dream #4 – White Rose by Ina Vez Once there was a maiden fair, with flowing locks of golden hair. She stood before her mirror plain, brushing strands like summer rain. She dreamed a dream so soft, so dear, a white rose pinned with hope sincere— a gift from hands so strong, so true, a love to cherish, pure and new. She dreamed he stood beside her door, a single rose, a vow once swore. But time moved on, the seasons fled, and still she waited—still she pled. Years had passed, her hair turned gray, the mirror’s face showed time’s decay. Brushing strands now thin and pale, she traced old dreams that once set sail. And then — a chime, a ringing tone, a voice that echoed from her own. Her grandson ran, with eyes that gleam, a single rose — a broken dream. “Granny, this is just for you!” His hands so small, his spirit true. She held the bloom against her hair, yet knew the match was never there. She raised it high, toward silver threads, but saw the years their distance spread. The rose was youth; her hair was frost— a dream misplaced, a moment lost. She placed it down, her heart grown still, for love had come in altered will. A rose at last, from hands sincere— not from a man, but one held dear. Everything we dream holds merit— but only when the time will knit.
