Yesterday, I dropped a cup – it shattered

Into less pieces than did the psyche

Of the main character of my new book.

Raised protagonist too, I’m not flattered

That folk called me strong where I proved spiky

Lauding thorns while, my blossoms, they forsook.

There’s an adage champions come from strife

A notion turmoil is what brings power

A belief buds aren’t dear to the briar

But I toiled so to bring petals to life

Pushed through snow and faced droughts just to flower

Only to be turned into barbed wire.

My castle boasts no balls, it’s made fortress

My story boasts no belle, she’s made beastly

This is not the tale I sought to relay

So, since I flourished to speak tenderness

And my tome’s plot is floriography

I find the heart to reclaim my bouquet.

Each protagonist exists to protect

That which is precious from what would cause pain

Thus, I weave daisy chains to guard my “no”

I pick up the blooms that people reject

Marvel alone at how soft they remain

Root in defiance… and let colours grow.