atop the hill
on the strawberry side
rests a flower bulb
that only opens
when secrets are told.

it sits and waits
for an old sap to spill
or for a daffodil with questions.

unfortunately, this bud was found.
more question were planted
and false accusations bloomed
gossip spread like clover.

as everyone plowed,
uprooted, and pillaged,
the flower with all the answers
wilted among the destruction.