The beautiful buds of the gazing fields
With smells of lavender in the spring air
They go to dance in the breeze to conceal
The vile monstrosities that need repair
I can envision them both far and near
From the big mountains to vast autumn plains
The glorious bright leaves shine oh so dear
And the perfect flowers make some great grain
Their wonderful auras fill me with glee
Their marvelous pastels ring with much fun
Yet, that is not enough, they must be free
They yearn to feel more from one but the sun
They’re taken and torn till you feel just thorns
And only broken stems are left to mourn.
