I took a stroll one breezy day,
To see what blooms had come to play.
The daisies danced in neatish rows—
Respectable sorts, I do suppose.

The poppies came all bold and red,
Not one of them had brushed their head.
Bluebells huddled, shy and small,
Gossiping softly behind a wall.

The foxglove stood a little too proud,
Whispered her stories far too loud.
While buttercups (a cheerful crew)
Just laughed and leaned in morning dew.

A thistle rolled her eyes at me,
But gave a nod—politely, see.
A nettle bristled, sharp and terse,
(Though privately, I’ve known her worse).

I found a bloom with no clear name,
All twisty-stemmed and much to blame—
For grabbing space and breaking rule,
Yet somehow made the garden cool.

It struck me then, as these things do,
That people are like flowers too.
We bloom in ways both big and small—
There’s room, you know, to hold us all.

So plant us deep and let us grow,
In sun or rain or even snow.
Be tulip, teasel, rose or pea—
The garden’s best with variety.

• A Stroll Through A Garden by Jay Rose Ana