Harvest, blood, blue, and pink are all variants of me. When I'm full, what ensues is nothing short of insanity.

It is said every rose bears these, Hidden like secrets beneath velvet leaves. They guard the blooms that hearts adore, Whispering the price that beauty bore. Their pointed kiss may leave a scar, A fleeting reminder of how fragile we are. For beauty and sorrow walk entwined, And even fairiest roses draw blood with time.

I can brighten a photograph or brighten a stormy sky. Either way, I’m gone almost immediately.

Their stripes are their most identifying feature, But there's so much more to this magnificent creature, Like white spots on its ears made to look like eyes, And bright fur that looks green, an ingenious disguise, There are more of them captive than there are in the wild, Their habitat ranging from Siberian cold to south Asian mild

In kitchens I dance with a bubbly crown, On waves I appear when storms come around. I’m light as a whisper, I vanish with ease, Yet I gather in clusters on rivers and seas. In mugs I rise when the dark brews are poured, A soft little blanket that drinkers adore. I’m born from a mix of liquid and air, A fleeting white carpet that’s here, then not there. You cannot hold me, I slip through your hand, I sparkle and shimmer but never will stand. In tubs I bring laughter, in oceans I roam So tell me, dear thinker, what am I?