The Violet

Life is like a garden I am the frail and dainty flower And I am always disregarded by the hive of worker bees and their queen At least from my viewpoint on the ground, in the dirt Life is like a garden I am always looked down upon Tucked behind tall grass I am seen but overlooked 
I am of sweet smell, but seem to never compare to the aroma of a deep deep crimson rose 
I am bright, but seem to never compare to the brilliant shades of yellow in a sunflower
I bloom all year long, but seem to never compare to the graceful seasonal blooming of a tulip
I am poised, but seem to never compare to the sophistication of an iris 
I am unique, but seem to never compare to the intricacy of an orchid 
I am the Violet I AM THE VIOLET I am the violet I wear my heart on my sleeve, heart-shaped, scalloped leaves While the bees may ignore me The florists will always always appreciate my frailty