We, The Flowers In the Field

by Helena Fernz



We the flowers in the field have whispered at times of the deeds that humans do The wind sings these tales to us as our heads dance in its hold And we ponder and ponder And grieve in our colorful disguise And we wonder as to why Men hate, men destroy and kill But we are flowers and they, they seem to have no will To hold what is precious To treasure what is fragile To build what is shattered And we look and look and we cry We the flowers in the field we will perish one by one In quiet desperation, without anger Without sound And there will be no memories That we were once flowers Beautiful and vibrant Wonders of this world

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