Meadow Rose

Upon meadows artistry grows
There grew most envious rose
Scanning all colors it saw
Taking count, one’s own flaw

Not seeing forest for glade
If only it had riches to trade
Lulling ‘neath balmy sunbeam
Embittered by no self-esteem

Petals soft as silk
Flowing like natures milk
 Exquisite tints of indigo blue
Dazzling each breath it drew

Blossom yonder envious too
Coveting heavenly hue
What wouldn’t they bestow
How divine it’d be to grow