With each passing day, the hues seem to wash away… the colours of happiness and spirit that once painted my world. They dissolve quietly, sinking beneath the still waters, layer by layer, into an endless depth that feels like forever. Yet, amidst this fading spectrum, the rose remains untouched by time, unbroken by loss. Her colours may have drained into the deep, but her presence endures. Colourless, yet invincible. Silent, yet radiant in ways that light cannot define. She is the rose. My mother… rooted in memory, blooming still, somewhere beneath the calm and the infinite.