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Flowers

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It is usually the outspoken that are never heard;
their voices hidden in an array of noise.
They leap and shout, throwing caution to the wind—
anything to be noticed.
Their days and nights are spent in creativity
as they get lost in a world we could only wish to have known.
As life speeds by,
they catch up
and fall behind
and lead the way
and never cry.
If only we had noticed the dainty shout of a writer,
the screaming whisper of an artist,
the beautiful sorrow of a dancer,
and the vibrant spirit inside a lonely soul.
Then maybe, just maybe, they wouldn’t have withered away
like the flowers of the field.




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