each flower wakes in borrowed dawn,
dressed in a truth no hand has drawn
some whisper pale as morning air,
some burn like suns that dare to stare.
no mirrored form, no borrowed light,
each claims its name in color’s right
beneath one sky, one warming grace,
they turn their faces, take their place.
the wind may test, the rain may plead,
still every stem remembers need;
though scents may clash and colors vie,
a woven peace goes drifting by.
we too can grow in different ways
shine in our own untamed displays
each soul a petal, bold or meek
all worthy, strong, and beautifully unique.
