
Puts herself out there;
who will cheer the lone flower,
tell her she is brave?

Puts herself out there;
who will cheer the lone flower,
tell her she is brave?

Scattered in our parks
life, dying and decaying—
little white petals.

Before sunlight hits,
pretty flowers bloom outside
wearing eye shadow.

Flower to flower
tramping, finding her own feet,
young bee loves her life.