Wild Flowers
I have watched you pass the wild flowers again and again you choose the manicured roses with scents so fair. I have watched you discard your lovely prizes when frosts chill is down. There beauty is no challenge and they bore you now. I have watched you trample the wild flowers and how you ignore how they endure. Their strength masked by wiles that allure. And though you think they are common weeds, their beauty grows free. Through the bitter winds of the open plain their potency remains. They need no walled gardens in light or in shade. Their ferocious spirit a burning flame and from the ashes they always rise again.
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