It rained too often, the sun didn’t shine,
The earth was dry, but the flower was fine,
She grew alone on a small, dull hill,
Flowers were below but she was isolated still.

A few days later when the hurricane arrived,
She was torn to pieces, completely deprived.
She had been put through the worst and in her strain,
The flower pushed on and did not complain.

The sun rays smiled on the flowers below,
They were perfectly adapted and had a slight glow,
Roots filled with moisture, but never too much,
Surrounded by others, close enough to touch.

A few days later when the hurricane struck,
The flowers were devastated and depended on luck,
In this time of hardship, the flowers could not cope,
They were dead the next day as they had lost all hope.

It rained too often, the sun didn’t shine,
The earth was dry, but the flower was fine.
She grew alone on a small, dull hill,
Flowers weren’t below, but she had herself still.