The bougainvillea

Bright flowers

Sharp thorns

No scent

Rather flamboyant

Rambling out my front door

It is the first thing I see of a morning

Protecting little birds

In the depths of it’s not a tree shrubbery

It does what it wants

Roams freely

Highly resilient

Can’t be insulted

I could stand there for an hour yelling

And it would wave its fronds in the breeze

Unaffected

It makes me smile

Just to think of how stupid hurling an opinion at a bush would be

That bougainvillea reminds me

In its silent beautiful voice

It’s simple lack of choice

Just

Bloom

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