Where do your lovely flowers grow?
On a hill?
In a meadow?
In a garden in a
row?
Where do your
colors bloom and shine?
In the sunlight?
In your heart?
In the seeds you
leave behind?
Flowers are more
than we may first assume.
The magic and
mystery
Brought forth in
bloom,
The bright
metaphorical cadence of joy
Is a groundswell
of happiness
Bathed in perfume.
And every blossom
-Precious and
quaint -
Fades in it’s time
With no hint of
complaint,
Content in it’s
day with
The picture it
painted
It passes all
bonds of restraint.
And we are the
flowers,
The you, we and I,
Who wink at the
sunlight
And rise toward
the sky.
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