Life is like a field…a nice open meadow,
Where trees, weeds and all sorts grow,
And each and every person is a flower in there,
Some still blossoming from a bud that’s bare,
Straining their necks to reach the sunlight.
Whilst others are full of petals, lush and bright,
These have understood the true purpose of existence,
And outshone the others with sheer persistence,
They’re the ones that have out competed everything,
And now with the breeze they can sway and swing,
That’s not them all though, there’re still others…
What about the sweet roses and talking sunflowers?
In this colourful plant jungle, they are the ‘kings’,
Attracting all the pollinators, anything with wings.
And there’s the delicate daisies and buttercups,
Who need the most protection from the grownups,
Crushed too easily are their thin petals and stems,
Trampled and squashed are these little gems,
They’re the hopeful little children of the world,
Only if we let it their potential will be unfurled,
But each flower is competing to find their own way,
After all…they all want to be picked for that bouquet.