The common rosemary
looks at the other flowers in the yard
from her plain brown ***
on the windowsill.
She wishes to mingle
with those kissed by sun and rain
to bloom in vibrant colors like the rest.
She wishes for the sweet caress
of the gaze and touch out in the open.
Yet she sits alone in her little ***
up there
on the windowsill.
And she settles for being useful
instead of liked.