Placed by the window,

the delicate bouquet sits

pristine and untouched

with petals like placid smiles

and soft sissy hands,

they settle dainty and benign

in their sheltered vase.

 

But through the window,

the wild-flowers are laid bare,

exposed and seasoned

with petals like calloused hands

and wrindled laugh-lines,

they bear the dirt and frost

as well as the radiant sun.

 

If humans were flowers,

I wish to be wild.

to weather the hardships,

but to taste the beauty

and sweet serendipity,

and to live fully

beyond sheltered confinement.