The Wild Azalea

Text:

© Shamika
There was a wild azalea, she lived beneath a tree
Her life seemed like a failure, for nobody could see
The beauty in her blossom or her sweet exotic scent
A neglected rhododendron with her shameful head all bent
Every year she flowered, pink, magenta, crimson, cream
Her buds were tight as babies fists, she gushed like sunlit stream
But no-one ever picked her or stopped to touch and sniff
For she had very toxic roots, a fact that was no myth
She'd stun and slowly poison every thing that crossed her path
She gained a reputation as a floral sociopath
But she was just protective of her right to grow and thrive
And surely there's no other way that she could stay alive