Just one of those little wildflower seeds
Dropped by a bird in a field of weeds
Grew and flourished in sun and breeze,
Admired by all the birds and bees.
Still she complained that she was there.
Was not content to breathe fresh air.
Then someone, walking, picked her from
The field she'd always known as home
And put her in an old cold jar
With flowers who surpassed by far
Her beauty and her fragrant light.
She slipped unnoticed, out of sight.
Amongst the flowers she did lie,
Longing for the clear blue sky
And knowing now, but much too late
How we should appreciate
The good we have and hold it dear,
for it will not always be near.