As I stand in the middle of the field

There was a vast opening

An enormous area of flowers in full bloom

Although one appears to be wilted

That particular flower everyone ignores

No one sees

It just sits there slowly dying

Waiting to be picked

However, who wants a flower ugly in color

No one notices the inner beauty

Nevertheless, this flower just needs a lil tender love and care

I stoop down to pick at its roots

Place it in a glass vase and

Set it by the window sill for passerby

I admire its beauty

Its effervescent presence

I wonder aloud to myself “Why am I the only one who sees?”

“Why can no one else see?”

Love is often times seen as this flower

You can smell it, feel it, and watch it bloom in slow motion

Until one day it withers away

Perhaps the reason I see and others do not

Is because a person must have the gift of seeing the beauty in all things no matter how sickly