I sit there staring at a flower not expecting much from petals and a stem.
The little bugs that crawl out from each petal lie in the center covered in pollen.
The drips of water run down the stem as if it was a child going down a waterslide.
The sweet smell lingers around the flower like a honeybee and its hive.
On windy days the flower sways and on rainy days the petals wilt.
As I continue sitting in this meadow I’m comforted by the silence of each individual flower.
When I feel the flower, the stem has a roughness, but yet it’s soft like velvet.
The soft suede- like petals overlap each other like an incoming tide.
Sitting alone in this field makes my senses come alive.
The honey-like scent can almost be tasted and the insects can be heard across the meadow.
One thing I noticed about this flower is it’s different.
The colors, the shapes, the personality is vibrant.
The pinkness and ripples lie on each narrow petal.
The yellow pollen lays under the apricot-colored ruffles.
The dark forest-colored stem has thin thorns circling it.
The rest of the meadow contains white flowers like a daisy.
The centers are brown with orange seed like spots.
The one flower sitting in this meadow of millions is the one that caught my eye.
It doesn’t care what the other flowers look like or how its suppose to look.
It’s one of a kind.