All flowers once were called a weed
and reproduced by bulb or seed,
now nurtured as a cherished bloom
and prized for looks and sweet perfume.
When people pluck them out, I say,
“all flowers once were called a weed.”
Yet, it did naught their hand to stay -
“they can’t be given room to breed.”
Still, spread they did and in their greed
would congregate most anywhere.
Those flowers once were called a weed
and now considered debonair.
Not long ago, there was no claim,
no blossom’s value guaranteed.
Appreciation earned them fame.
All flowers once were called a weed.
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