It was a flower
Not one of those
Colirful flowers whose
Smell would expell your mind
Into the state of ectasy
Nor was it one
Of those flowers
That attracted
a lot of bees nor gazes
However, it was
A flower that could
Withstand any drout
Or any flood
That came it's way
It was a flower
That could grow
Anywhere, out of
What seemed like nothing
When a young man
Was passing through
The flower fields
He stopped
To pick up a flower
Perhaps for his love or mother
But he took another
For as, like flowers like people
Are chosen by their beauty
And not their root