Yes you, amidst the rough terrain, against the waves, through stormy days you blossom. Dry earth, and sand, and rock your bed. It’s there your beauty shines.
You sleep though sun invades its light, with no complaint. Rain, like fuel, pounds against your fragile buds, contents your roots beneath the earth, still unseen.
It’s here, tenderness springs forth; and through this season, conquers. These violet hues unfurl against the harshness, leaving you a legacy of love-li-nes-s.