Flower Bed

Flower Bed Once bold, bright yellow now, fuzzy white. Planted by chance of wind, unlike the impatiens flourishing in the shade. Blow far away. Swelter in the sun, in fear of being spotted lodged between rocks, or in a crack of a driveway. Perhaps, a child may mistake you for a flower, in his ignorance of youth. While shedding petals, always to be a rose. Surely, a thorn to a dandelion, removed from the garden of beauty.