Flower

One lone flower,
Sitting in a field,
It has no power,
Only zeal.
Sitting there lonely,
Wanting to be plucked,
Wilting there unknowingly,
Growing more tucked.
It's children escape,
Landing to the ground,
They've found their special place,
Here they're bound.
Air and rain and light,
Surround the fertile land,
They grow by night,
On mother natures hand.
Flowers blooming bright,
Them in a field,
They take their mother's plight,
They take their mother's zeal.