Wallflower

There's a quiet kind of power in being the observer

When I wrote "Wallflower," I was thinking about the people who exist on the edges. Those who might not command attention when they enter a room, but whose presence is rich with depth, sensitivity, and awareness. The ones who watch, who listen, who feel deeply but don't always express it in ways that draw a spotlight.

This poem is minimal on purpose. Just one word per line, each one spaced like a breath,. It's the shape of a wallflower: soft but sure. Each line is a step forward without shouting. A bloom in slow motion.

Wallflowers aren't invisible because they're empty. They're unseen because the world often overlooks quiet brilliance in favor of louder beauty. But these quiet ones are often the ones who notice everything. They carry observations, empathy, and secrets, both their own, and others'.

I think many of us have had wallflower moments. Maybe you've been the quiet one at the party, the silent supporter in a meeting, the friend who notices when someone's smile doesn't quite reach their eyes. If so, this poem is for you. A small space carved out in verse to remind you: blooming doesn't have to be loud to be real.

And for those who aren't wallflowers but love one, this is a glimpse of their quiet world.

Thanks for reading, and for seeing the quiet ones.

Wallflower

They

bloom

in

silence,

unseen

but

watching.

holding

secrets

the

bright

ones

never

notice.

E. C. Mira