Poem - The Little Flower
Far far away, in a land by many people known
Was a small Flower bud, waiting to bloom.
Who could have guessed? Who could have known?
The tale of the Flower which is about to be shown.
Ever since he was a seedling, had the Flower dreamed
To be as beautiful as others, to be how they gleamed
Graceful as a Hyacinth, dyed in pink
Noble as a Magnolia, dyed in white ink
People came to observe the other flowers and they were impressed
With the elegance of their looks and their sweet scents
But when it came to be the young Flower\'s turn
The people\'s skins would turn red and feel to burn
More and more people ran away at the sight of the Flower
Cursing it, calling it names so sour
The poor Flower, still little and young
Felt the pain, equivalent of being by a wasp stung
Years went by, the Flower had died
His hope of being loved, still denied
Little did he know, it was not his fault
The Flower had been allergic to the adults, after all