In the hush of morning’s gentle glow,
Wildflowers dance where soft winds blow.
Petals whisper secrets of the dawn,
In fields where dreams are gently drawn.

Colors burst in vibrant, untamed hues,
Painting landscapes with their dew-kissed views.
A tapestry of nature’s own design,
Each blossom sings, a note divine.

Beneath the sky’s vast, endless dome,
They sway and pirouette, free to roam.
Guardians of meadows, wild and free,
Their beauty speaks a silent plea.

As sunlight fades and shadows creep,
Wildflowers bow, as if to sleep.
Yet in the quiet of the night,
They dream of dawn and morning light.