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They are wild flowers through and through. 
They don't grow in rows, rather they spring up wherever they wish.
They are galaxies, impossible to measure and beautiful to look at. 
They shine and dazzle, stunning in their nature. 
They are the sunsets that paint the earth. Pinks and oranges and deep, deep reds. 
They are the ocean waves, ever present, always pounding on the shoreline. 
They are the clouds that dot the skies and shade the earth.
The ones painted and the ones poems are written about.
They are the buds on a tree giving way to new life, a fresh start. 
They fill the earth with a sweet aroma. 
They are the dreams we dream in the dead of night, sleeping in our beds, 
small and unaware of our beauty.