Water pools in the folds of a flower,
Delicate and glistening, among the ruins of it's floral brethren.
Unruffled, it glows, announcing itself as though it had won a battle,
And claimed this land for all it's worth.
I've never been one to be a leader,
And found myself in trouble more than I'd care to admit.
But if a Chrysanthemum as lovely as this can withstand the weather,
And wave through storms as if they were summer breeze,
I will become just as strong,
And bend along with them.