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…

Doing “as is expected…”

Stopping at preset lights,

Moving only when someone else says go…

Could very well stunt personal freedom,

And the chance to live and grow.

Would it put a shade over life’s

Intuitive inner glow?

Freely being ourselves could

Stir up dust,

Into otherwise stagnant spaces…

Mixing things up,

Firing off synapses,

Causing seeds to become wildflowers.

Do you prefer plastic roses,

Or the real thing.

 

Gilda Patricia