Clover Asks a Question

No flower in the meadow is exactly alike hundreds of them, each unique plethora of colors, shades, fragrances and hues each blossom complete onto herself violet grins at clover, reading his bliss clover feels bold under her appreciation asks her why flora is so many colors violet blushes and her purple hue deepens flowers feel deeply, mushroom offers their empathy and compassion abounds each thought brings a new shade to their blossoms clover is surprised is this true for marigolds, lilies, tulips, and bleeding heart? mushroom peers over tall grass to survey the meadow all signs indicate it must be clover takes a deep sigh, satisfied