I'm a lone traveler, in search of love.
While I was traveling amid the babbles of streams down the cliffs and the forestlands immersed in hues of browns and greens, I'd finally reached a plain. There were rows of something bulbous dressed in hues of white, craning the sun, shielding the horizon. It wasn't a grassland covered in a blanket of snow nor a farm of cotton. It was a garden of white tulips. I plucked one of the petals off. Its fragile velvety made me mesmerize the happy moments of a relationship. A whistling breath of wind blew past my sweat ridden face. A slow smile spread lit up my face. Happiness was seeping into my soul. That was a serene feeling that ensued in the midst of white tulip garden. While I continued to pluck each petal off, I soon realized that every petal has syllabic verses in it and the white tulips—the blissful poems.
–Jehan