The Flower

A flower stood still,
Only a shadow did cover,
No color could be seen,
As the hawks flew over.

Soon the flower,
Felt out of place,
As more did grow,
Darkening even his face.

Then one day,
A storm did blow,
Knocking each down,
Again became solo. 

But the sun soon rose,
And the shadow flew,
It's color became known,
such a pretty blue.