What does it mean when someone's favorite flower is violets?
Little clusters of dainty purple bloom sprinkled about,
forgotten or unseen by most among vast beds of clover.
Hunting fingers search for four-leafed omens while
deer feast on the rest, leaving room for dandelions their
long silvery necks stretch to take the spotlight, left alone
until impatient lips can blow their prayers into the midday breeze.
But, violets? They manage to survive, away from preying eyes.