Weed.

I am nature’s graffiti so they say,
A carefree gypsy scarlet out to play.
I hide in the gardens away from watchful eyes,
I have no petals a wildflower in disguise.

Nothing is as beautiful as spring,
I am dancing wild in the wind.
With thistles briar thorns and nettles,
The occasional rain showers tickle.

My neighbour is the lily,
Fair proud and perhaps a trifle cold.
Sometimes I am intoxicated in my own reverie,
If only I have petals white and pure in all its splendour.

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