Flowers of the Mind

It's a short little poem that, well, if I told you it'd ruin it....

As the man stumbles down
The winding avenue he sees
The future of the bricks
Enclosing him.

He sees the beauty leaping forth
Spreading, growing,
It's scent intoxicating,
It's colors entrancing.

But the people do not look
At the color-splashed stone
Their briefcases
Weep for the roses.

The man wonders what it is
In humans that makes them,
In their intelligence,
Forget the finer details.

The amazing buds springing through,
They're free to make, have, see
And so they are forgotten.

Author's Note

This was done quickly so some typo's may exist; also, please ignore any odd sentence structure and wording that may be odd: I was sleepy.

Reviews

[Jo Anna Bella]

I love the sentiment, so often we bypass the simple things which are the rich things that brings joy to our lives.