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I Am A Wildflower

I may not be the exquisite rose of your French orchids,

or the fragrant Jasmine of your manicured lawns.

A wildflower of some unknown species, yes I am of a wild tribe!

The type that grows on the sides of your very dirty roads and

muddy paths, the kind whose seeds are never sowed

and fruits shall never be reaped.

 

Do you know that in my womb, I too carry a fragrance?

A pungent smell which never made it to the bottle of any perfume.

No lover ever came knocking on my humble door. No never!                      

Such abhorrent is my appearance that my beauty is never a joy to any.

My petals are never given a chance to kneel at the altar of any shrine,

for the pundits prophesied, it would have been blasphemy of some kind!

 

But I continued to sway when the cold winds would blow and

bloom whenever the benevolent Sun would shine.

I flourished, even when the florists at my site continued to whine

I thrived when the rains were scarce at an hour when suddenly the eclipse

took over all the Suns, and the Moon simply refused to show up.

 

So you ask me why?  For I possess a zeal, a yearning to live, so strong that even

when I am trampled on your dirty roads, I never cease to grow….

and continue to grow and like a phoenix rise from the ashes.

I am a wildflower, the kind that grows on the sides of muddy paths.

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36 thoughts

    • Thanks dear, I am glad you liked it. I just read your poem and it was marvelous, I enjoyed how you hinged historical with present.

  1. Thanks a lot ever so generous with kind remarks. Well you can love as many wild flowers as you want there are growing in abundance outside!

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