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.
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