It was a newly planted tulip. That first love. Its stalk grew fast and almost effortless like, cutting through the dirt that would keep it down, spurred on by the cheerful light of the sun. It grew and developed every day, not only enduring but thriving through the showers and storms. Every day could only make it better and more beautiful. When it finally blossomed it was a breathtaking and beautiful thing to behold. A mystery that such a small shoot at the begining could blossom into something so spectacular. Its aroma was sweet and inviting for all. Its color so vivid that no pen could fully convey its complex hues through words. It was the sort of beauty that every heart longs for, and when it is found the heart rejoices and desires to grasp onto it for an eternity.
But then the wind begins to change and blow. The bright summer suns cheer seems to fade into lethargy. The days grow shorter as the darkness of the night begins to overtake. Before the Tulip has hardly even realized these changes, its petals are gone and lie about it like bones, lifeless and useless. They serve now only as a painful reminder of the beauty that once was. The tulip begins to fade. It devoted its life to those petals, only to have the wind carelessly rip them away and leave the tulip baren and ugly, simply a green stalk now with nothing left to offer. The tulip surrenders to the cold, by now welcoming the frost that spreads. The ice that beings to form around it seems to bring only death, and by now, the once handsome tulip, is reduced to simply a bulb in the dirt. It embraces the pain that the ice brings, longing now for death. At least it can say it had it had a beautiful existence. It had lived its life and given everything to make its short time beautiful and meaningful. With this the tulip forever bids the sun goodbye and surrenders to the winter. Time is lost as the chilly winter continues day after day. Even the land seems to forget that joyus time of summer only a few months past. All seems lost to ice and death, with no hope of rejuvination.
But there is always hope. The tulip feels a sudden prick of this hope when unexpectedly the sun seems to awaken from its slumber. It kisses the ground ever so softly with its rays. It begins to smile upon the snow, as if it is melting it with love. The snow that once was a symbol of desolation and death, begins to change into life giving water and trickles into the earth to wake the sleeping plants. Suddenly the little tulip feels something strange run through it, and it drinks of the water thirstily as it begins to reach for the sun. The golden rays seem to banish the melancholy of winter. Dreams of the dog days of summer and or beauty again begin to conspire. As it breaks to the surface and once again greets its friend the sun, the little tulip realizes that the winter it has just faced was never the end, but was only a season. The tulip realized how, though the winter had been hard and painful, it had been necessary for renewal, and the little tulip knew that it was now stronger and better due to what it had endured. With that the little tulip turned its face to the sun, and let the the joyful thoughts of the the new season to come envelop it. Though it would face many more winters, the tulip now knew that no matter how much snow fell, it would not be overcome. For there is always the HOPE of renewal.