In a place not far away,

Closer than you’d suspect,

There’s beauty on display.

It’s not what you’d expect.

It’s not mountains soaring high

Or the ocean stretching so very far

Not a new phenomenon in the sky

It’s not the twinkling of a brighter star

It’s a simple, quiet, open field

With patches of unblemished roses

Sunshine and time have revealed

Vibrant colors to spark inspired prose

The rose is picture perfect

But it’s not worth the drive

It’s not the beauty you suspect

That arrests you when you arrive

The journey is for another

Something a little less loud

Something a little bit other

Than the perfect crowd

They are small, but so strong

That they can grow anywhere

Even in the Arctic, they belong

And require very little care

You can cut her down

But she’ll stand again

For a time, she may turn brown

But her brilliance, she’ll regain

The chance to pick a perfect red rose

Is not worth the long drive of an hour

But the one I would have chose

Is the beautiful, lone wildflower.