I saw flowers in her hair
As if from there they’d grown
Daisies formed into a crown
Upon the head of Rose

And Rose was what they called her
Though Violet her true name
With daffodils in her hands
Freshly dripping with summer rain

She smelled of bloomed gardenias
Like a sunflower, she looked to the light
A lily amongst thistles and weeds
Lips of pink and skin of white

She was the rarest of them all
But a wildflower in heart and soul
Able to grown in the midst of weeds
Blooming, striving, gold