Across a field of roses Where Color Kisses Sky,
The perfume hovers over Scarlet heads for passersby.
But there, right in the middle Of the sea of regal red,
A single wildflower Lifts her defiant head.
Taller, much more supple Than the roses far below,
The wildflower knows things That Roses never know.
With nothing to confine her, She's free to dance and sing-
To move with every breath of wind, face turned to every breeze.
Exciting places she can see- Things she longs to try,
She dreams that wildflowers-- Will someday learn to fly.
She ponders all the wonders A flower never should, She yearns to learn the kinds of things That roses never could.
Dancing free above the rest, Heart filled with wind and sun, She'll spend her life out living, Like roses wished they'd done.
Joy, to those who dance the wind, Is found in their own power, And those- and only those- Are called a wildflower
","author_name":"TheWanderingPaddy James Mooney"}