Autumn comes and goes and soon the flowers die
No Honeysuckle to last as the cold encroaches on her
Down the hillside she use to grow but wilted stalks now lie
Not to rise again ‘til spring so winter’s wind cannot shiver

On the side of a rock stood a shy little blossom hidden
While their name depicts their heart, poor forget-me-nots
If they could even just once have one kind word given
All the same they wait to be seen as their little spirit rots

So many times you try to get close to this beautiful one
Cold and distant rose who’s beauty tempts many a hand to pluck
And yet the thorns from her sides wound all who dare come
Now the wounded hands in spite toss her in the muck

Take a look at the simpler primrose in her many shades
Soft petals dancing in the whispering breeze
Today she feels alone in her crowd lost in the haze
Only for those around her does she dress to please

Perhaps the chrysanthemum is more to your taste
Buried inside her many lushes petals you cannot see her heart
Every glance you cast spies only the petals which soon will waste
Can you glimpse an understanding of her unique part
And somewhere in some lush field is a crowd of its own
That of the bluebells who cluster as close as relations
Usually there is a peace among their ranks shown
So they are welcome among even foreign nations

Even though she stands in innocence before you
Eventually this daisy will be laid upon a grave
Very mark of beauty does in death mark also true
Each good she does is manipulated to a wrong road paved

Now that which embodies peace is that found in chaos too
It is the simple lotus on the simple pond hovering above unknown waters
For each who meditates on her goodness finds truth new
Goodness above hides the mess beneath of the tangled rooted daughter

Only of flowers have I spoken here?
Do not those precious souls whom stand around
For their own hearts in this world fear
Or are flowers just flowers left not yet drowned

Real world experience teaches better
Go and look to see those humble flowers
In each girl who by their fears and concerns find fettered
Very much chained by their deep hidden towers

Each holds their secret locked in the top room
So whether pain or joy locked away
Many miss seeing the inner gloom
Every tear hidden behind a smile for their sins to pay

Precious souls who you don’t see
Each one a treasure who seems themselves wanting
Only if they saw the beauty in the pain like me
Poor minds themselves are taunting

Little else is wrong but the self-abuse
Each thought or drawn wound to mark their mind
When will they see they need to set themselves loose?
Only the past serves to give them motive not surrendering to time

Now these little flowers wilt so readily
‘Til some bystander helps them to themselves steady