"Flowers It starts with a tiny seed Soon roots grow down to feed Then sprouts just like a weed It grows a little each day Leaves extend to catch the suns' rays Even a little when the skies are grey So many types and strains All pretty, even if they're plain Their beauty can't be contained They grow in almost any conditions Are part of many traditions To many are a great acquisition Filling the air with lovely scents It can only make you content Paradise... Is this what they meant? ©Schizology"