The Little Forget Me Not

Once upon a time,
Not so very long ago.
There lives a little flower,
With a story to bestow...

A story of a secret garden,
And all who play their part.
As a magical wind carried a seed,
A tiny seed with a loving heart.

Gently it laid it on the ground,
Softly blew over it good earth.
The wind whispered sleep now,
At dawn this place will give birth.

I've put you here for a reason,
So please don't think me cruel.
You have virtues deep within you,
To teach others life's golden rule.

That very next Spring morning,
When the sun was gently hot.
A little flower was happily born,
A beautiful little forget me not.

It awoke with a wide smile,
Saw great beauty all around.
Then was in for a surprise,
Upon hearing a nasty sound.

What are you doing here,
The black roses said as one.
How dare you live among us,
And soak up all our sun. 

Oh look how small you are,
Have you been very ill.
The black roses all laughed,
Their voices cruel and shrill.

But the little forget me not,
Just turned the other cheek,
It put on its bravest face,
And chose not  to speak.

They are cruel and mean,
It knew in its little heart.
I will not become like them,
Of hatred I'll play no part.

Please will you share your pollen,
Said a voice regal and refined.
From a queen bee before it,
That was also soft and kind.

Oh hello there beautiful bee,
Its a pleasure to meet you.
Please take all you need,
It is the least I can do.

Those roses never share pollen,
Their mean through and through.
Unlike all this garden's flowers,
All kind and generous like you.

I do thank you little flower,
For what you did bestow.
I shall ask the other insects,
To gift to you their show.

Then all dragonflies did dance,
Before this enchanted little flower.
Butterflies revealed their colours,
All day long upon every hour.

Then the birds paid a visit,
To this flower they did sing.
Who thanked one and all,
Before they did take wing.

You won't live long here,
Spat the roses to the flower.
We so enjoy hurting others,
The source of all our power.

For soon oh unwanted bloom,
Our sharp thorns will uproot you.
The hot sun will dry you out,
And there's nothing you can do.

Above a dragonfly was hovering,
Hearing every word they said.
He told the queen bee everything,
She then  told a wiser head.

The wise old owl was shocked,
And he decided to quickly act.
For he would need more help,
Good friends he would contact.

The poor little forget me not,
Was collapsed in a tiny heap.
Feeling so sad and alone,
And did cry itself to sleep.

Then the screaming started,
But not by this treasured flower.
But by all the black roses,
Plucked from the garden bower.

For those wicked black roses,
With the hate they did contain.
Were taken by guardian owls,
And were never seen again. 
  
All dwell in a dark forest,
Among its nettles and weeds.
A lesson to be now learnt,
For all their wicked deeds.

Then the wise old garden owl,
With a smile filled with love.
Said come with me my child ,
As both took to skies above.

No please I will surely die,
The forget me not did cry.
We're nearly there said owl,
As both flew in the night sky.

And that bonnie little flower,
Awoke and opened its eyes.
To see a waterfall and rainbow,
And another magical surprise.

Pride of place in the garden,
A beautiful spot most revered.
Living with other colourful flowers,
Who  began to merrily cheer.

The queen bee and butterflies,
With the dragonflies and birds.
The owl and garden's wildlife,
Asked the flower for any words.

Thank you all for the kindness,
That you have shown to me.
It's good to be among friends,
And now finally feel so free.

My precious little child said owl,
You're a treasured caring thing.
For a magical wind once told me,
The love and peace you'd bring.

And within this secret garden,
At its most beautiful serene spot.
Was a smiling contented flower,
The adored little forget me not.

Dedicated to Pratibha