People and flowers alike,
Come from seed, planted in earthen vessels.
Alike, they are as clay,
Fashioned by a potters hands.
People and flowers alike,
Are ancestors of the soil.
Both were sent on a mission,
To grow and bring forth it's own kind.
They stand before their master,
In wonder of their worth.
The season of their death,
Is determined by only time.
A time to stand,a time to fall.
A time to live,a time to die.
Sacred to the master they are,out of each,
He has fashioned a bouquet of intense beauty.
Both are gathered at harvest,by his hands.
Yes, people and flowers alike,
Came from a creators heart.