Along the stone a garden grew.
Little flowers tucked in with barely enough dirt for their roots to spread.
Wall flowers:
Standing, waiting, hoping, blooming without knowing how beautiful they were.
In harmony. Though each a beauty in its own light.
Wall flowers nestled in the knooks and crannies of a wall that has stood for over a hundred years.
A gardener could not have planned it as well.
Wallflowers grew without knowing their worth:
Unique.
Divine.
Strong.
Lovely, true.
The stone wall followed a path. The tiny flowers that grew on the wall, could easily go unnoticed.
Mossed covered stones held them apart.
A view opposite of the wall that took most my attention.
I almost missed their beauty because of it.
The whole picture was breathtaking. Then I caught myself and said, "Slow down, look."
The language of flowers is similar to our own.
Bloom where you planted:
Unique.
Divine.
Strong.
Lovely, true.
Yes, the wallflowers, they caught my attention, every little thing, each flower, each moment is beautiful, especially if I stop and hold it true.
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