At dawn, a flower blossoms,
Tough and strong, beautiful and frail,
Under a thousand suns,
It shall live, leaving a trail,
At dusk, it shrivels up again,
Petals preparing to fall,
To the soft brown earth, a gentle den,
To answer the growing call,
Of a new life, reborn.
Blossoms sprout where the petals fell,
At dawn, once more,
And by the moonlight, seeds to sell,
To create the growing core,
Behold the field of blossoms.