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He often thought…she’s like a flower.
He marveled at how she always found a way 
to welcome in the sunlight and add her color to the day.

He often thought…she’s like a flower.
The way she shares her beauty with all the other flowers… and the trees.
He loves to watch her joy as she dances in the breeze.

He often thought…she’s like a flower.
for every day he finds…not only is she beautiful
but she’s soft, loving and kind.

He often thought…she’s like a flower
because with just the smile on her face
She not only brightens up his life but makes the world a better place.

But he came to realize she IS a flower…as the years progressed
as demonstrated by all the insects that land on her to rest.

For insects have been created with the instinctive power
to search for, to recognize, and to seek out only flowers.

So he knows she has to be a flower…this he’s come to understand
every time a ladybug lands upon her hand.

Yes, he knows she has to be a flower…perhaps a daffodil or a rose
every time a butterfly rests upon her nose.

And now he only thinks of her as a flower…
who blooms every day anew…
After all:
If the ladybugs and the butterflies believe it…
he knows it must be true.

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