Their sweet yellow faces
as bright as the sun
their stems, thin and graceful
and still everyone

Think they are weeds,
try to chase them off
But if you walk through the woods
You'll find their secret spot

A little green meadow
That's filled with their beauty,
their happiness and joy,
and such wonder that few see

The blossoms, alive
blink and sway in the breeze
Their gladness fills me
and makes me feel free