I have grown upon this branch,
and I have chosen fuchsia.
As for my brethren, pale and white –
for that I have no use-ya.
My too-short tenure during Spring
has led me to be brazen.
And yet I find my solid frock,
though bold and quite amazin’,
is not accepted by my kin.
No, they scorn and judge me.
They turn their coats of white away.
Not one has ever hugged me.
But I fear not! For I am loved
by bees in pollened regalia.
Say what you will, I do not care.
For I am one sassy azalea!