Purple

Each spring I fill a vase with lilacs, Usually home to an inchworm or two I find that I cower, awaiting an attack Surprisingly, the little creatures never do Usually home to an inchworm or two, I anticipate the jump, the bite, the sting Surprisingly, the little creatures never do Still, I find the sweet purple flowers deceiving I anticipate the jump, the bite, the sting I find that I cower, awaiting an attack The sweet purple flowers are deceiving Yet each spring I fill a vase with lilacs