Unplucked

A flower in the shade,
Blooms quietly,
Yearning for the sun’s warmth,
Anticipating being picked,
Yet, only the most radiant petals are chosen.

One day, the fields will wither,
And the solitary flower will stand alone,
Witnessing its companions plucked,
For the most beautiful bouquet,
While it patiently awaits its turn.

Its turn never arrives,
Forced to be mowed before the next season,
The quiet flower has perished,
Along with its dream,
To blossom as the most radiant flower!