An empty field covered in snow is plain as day,
Getting left behind all the time as it hopes someone will stay.
The night passes and then the day returns to the field which is now green,
Covered in dew leaves the scene serene.
From the center of the field is a rumble as the grass mover to the side,
When a flower rises from the dew land appearing to be lost without a guide.
Now it's beauty attracts all even after noone wanted to stop by,
Cause there is always life after the tears the air may cry