All the fields of flowers how they
Blossom every spring, how they bring out the inner
Child that hides within me
Down to its roots
Every flower eventually blossoms
Flowers are like you and me
Growing and evolving till the end. Do flowers go to
Heaven?
Is that what sets us apart? I wouldn’t know the answer
Just asking out of curiosity. It’s the
Kid that’s still within me
Lost in this dull sad world
Maybe a flower can help this inner child
Not lose hope in finding itself
Out in this cold lonely world. Funny how
People are like flowers, sometimes
Quick to die off but sometimes
Reviving
Stronger and better
Then ever
Up to each petal, all so similar but each
Very unique but some so
Weary and dry like a
Xeric plant
Yet sometimes full of life and
zealful