A Flowering Maid

A flower, of sorts, I say! she retorts,
Did you ever see a flower like me?
Of blue and purple? Long legs that hurdle
Giant obstacles like the running foals?
A youth in her prime, that can spin a dime,
Yet run the length of the world and a glove?
Why no, said I then, I imagine, when
I see you, that there stands a beauty, fair
And proud in her sheen, attractive and lean;
For while it's true that some flowers are bats,
Blind without glasses, their passport, passes
To the world about them when they go out,
It does nothing to change what is still true.
A girl who's young is a beauty, like you.

                      A Flowering Maid, (c) Luke Bennette, May 2012