A girl runs in her own flower field hidden away
A new bud is slowly making it’s way up to the sun
She romps and plays with grass all day, but never to stay
The new bud bows to the wind, waiting for something to come
The young child grows slowly and steadily each day
The soft petals remain tightly closed both day and night
The girl soon was swept away form the field to a far-off bay
The lovely flower remained solitary though plain in sight
Years passed by as the girl grew into a young woman
The small bud climbed above the grass with petals slowly opening
She would often go to the shore, believing the flower field was mere fiction
The bud’s thin stalk grew strong as it’s slow growth awaited spring
The young teen would hears whispers to change and cave in
The weeds would gather about the humble floret, tempting to choke it
She would run to the rocky shore, finding her courage therein
However, the blossom remained untouched, forever a misfit
The young woman returned to the field one summer’s eve
The flower now stood tall and proud in full bright bloom
She walked down the dusty path, now to never leave
The red rose now waited in the grass with a sweet perfume
She ran along faster through the grass, hoping to find
The rose stood still against the wind, its petals outstretched
She stopped suddenly and looking down, she saw the flower so kind.
The rose seemed to smile backing, reminding her love is never far fetched.
An Open Window 