Merry Meadows

Fresh and green

Spring grass field

Little white flowers

Sprinkled about

But dig just a little deeper

To find worn out roots

Exhausted from upholding

This beautiful facade

Each blade, each blossom

Stands tall

Only to face the fate

Of being trampled underfoot

Yet even after

The continued wear and tear

They always return

To their upright state

So, with a keener eye

The beauty is not in the scenery

Of white and green, pretty pasture

But rather, in the resilience abound