Have you ever watched the wildflowers ~
blowing gently in the wind.
So in touch with heaven that it reaches out ~
as though seeking a friend.


To often when we see them ~
we simply can't resist.
We unthinkingly uproot them ~
we have to bring them in.

Wildflowers are alot like people ~
uprooted from their homes .
Watch closely, they begin to wilt ~
pining for the touch of home.


My father was a simple man, a farmer ~
by trade and circumstance.
When he was uprooted ~
he didn't stand a chance.


Like the gentle wildflower ~
he did not complain ~
He grabbed what sunshine he could get ~
before cloudy skies brought rain.


He scattered seeds ~
four children, to carry on his name.
His life was often lonely ~
and his eyes were filled with pain.
Yet, never once in all his years ~
did I hear him complain.


Then subtly like a creeping vine ~
Alzheimer's slipped in.
Choking out the sunshine ~
that was his dearest friend.


Tonight, he looks so peaceful ~
lying all alone.
Lips parted in a gentle smile ~
God's come to take him home.


Although we all will miss him ~
far more than we can say.
We'll meet again beneath the sunshine ~ of a brand new day.


So, scatter your seeds while you can ~
make sure the roots run deep.
Someone will need that strong foundation ~ .
When you close your eyes at last to sleep.