Roses, roses, roses bushes.
A bud on the top wanting to bloom.
But the rain doesn\'t come still.
Just a wind came.
Fluttering its greens.
Shaking its upright body.
Now calm down and breath.
We\'ll find a way.
Will let the dew come down.
Just like a jalousi of fresh.
It\'s a start.
You knew something\'s happening.
You feel it.
Like a pull, and it\'s restlessly calling you.
A river was near.
It\'s where every drop from the sky ended.
And the water streams somewhere.
Should the bud just fall down and follow?
Or should it wait for a drop for it blooming red, finally?