through shelter and shyness made,
not tall, not showy,
content with my bower's border's shade,
though they never deign confess it,
they live for sun
and hope, like me, that none will guess it.
My regular readers may find this poem to be an odd one from the fiery Blossom, but I was terribly shy growing up and that shyness still is there, coming out unbidden when the stars align.