Like humans, flowers gestate in the dark,
Each fed by time, water and sunlight spark,
A flower can be wild, can be a weed,
Can overtake expansive space, starting out as small seed,
The line between admiration and envy,
A comma, so common, yet breathtaking, begin and ending.
Read one of my favorite poems whose specific noun, flower, inspired my poem:
“When Death Comes” by Mary Oliver: