Little flower, thy beauty,
Compels so many to stop and see,
What secrets are contained in thee,
To delight an eager olfactory.


A stem, a petal, and a leaf,
Have no contributions or beliefs,
Still eyes water as if to weep,
Dewey eyes, searching deep.


What have you that I have not?
Is not my beauty worth a stop?
Think they my mystery merely tot,
At first glance have they seen the lot?


A brain, a conscience, ad a soul,
Do not lye on every knoll,
And still seldom I behold
To my spirit a dole bestowed.


Little flower, so beloved,
Thy beauty, I do covet,
Even as I try to snub it,
Your very being makes me love it.
 
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