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