Wildflower

There’s a fine art to 

Being polite and authentic, 

At the same time…

Drawing outside the lines,

Without stepping on anyone’s toes?

But only doing “as is expected…”

Stopping at predetermined red lights,

And moving when they say go,

Stunts our personal freedom,

To live and grow,

Putting a shade over life’s

Intuitive inner glow…

Freely being ourselves would surely

Throw some messy incongruity

Into otherwise stagnant spaces…

Mixing things up,

Firing off synapses,

Causing seeds to become wildflowers.

Stirring up all kinds of trouble…

For those who prefer plastic roses,

To the real thing.

 

Gilda Patricia