The Whispers of the Hibiscus Geranioides

In a quiet corner of the Earth's surface, you begin to bloom,

Not loud like your crimson cousins,

But a soft breath, a murmur in the garden,

Veins of life etched on your delicate petals.

Your coddled curves withhold the light,

As if the sun has whispered secrets to you,

In return you cradle them softly,

A guardian of forgotten wings.

Geranium-like leaves, yet you claim your own desire,

You stand quiet in resilience,

Neither needing the applause of the bees,

Nor the melody of summer rains.

You are a secret, shared by the soil,

And sky, a mystery in nature's tapestry, 

Not for all to notice, but for those

Who pause, and see the poetry in quiet things.