The Twisted Tree

Bright blossoms bloom from the branches of an ancient tree
Beauty beyond comprehension, for all to see
Yet their eyes were blind to the wonders before them
No one stopped to admire, save for me

It was there I observed the passers-by
Ogling a sculpted rose bush, then releasing a contentful sigh
Not one did stop, nor look, nor stare
All ignored the tree that stretched toward the sky

The bush was a perfect square
Yet the tree twisted vigorously in the air
Able to flow and move with the wind
While the roses were controlled, their freedom stripped bare

I can see the branches swaying
I listen, and understand what they're saying
The rose bush stays silent
Beneath the tree you'll find me laying

The only lie in nature is perfection
The pinnacle, the chief of misdirection
Like a bush of manicured flowers
Destroying the beauty of an imperfect complexion