There was a little flower
In a meadow full of bloom.
While the rest fell for the golden sun
She took to the silver moon.

The rain quenched her thirst
And the soils fed her well
And the skies watched her over
Though, if things were wrong, you couldn't tell.

The lilies turned their backs to her,
The pansies would sneer and glare,
The tulips called her fancy names
And held their noses in the air.

Praying mantises with their fake prayers
Called her a waste of space.
The proud and made up butterflies called her
White adornments a disgrace.

The wind and dust teamed together
And blew into her eyes
While all her "friends" around
Hid their smiles with fake surprise.

But the flower had enough when the moon
Changed his mind, one day,
So, she pulled her roots out, one moonless night
And quietly walked away...

~Wordsmith