A Wild Flower

If you pick up a wild flower
and hold it in your hand
the whole world is in your grasp
and as fleeting as a grain of sand.
For there's not one thing that has permanence.
Everything withers away.
For everything that you hold dear
can be gone within a day.

The wild flower that grows on its own
understands what its purpose is,
to bring beauty while it is living
and nothing more than this.
So if you pick one from a field
the lesson it can teach
is you are here to bring beauty
to all of those you reach.

poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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