All the tulips,

All the same,

Blooming in the bright, yellow sun.

All the tulips,

 Not one different,

Blowing in the gentle breeze.

One day I go back,

To all the tulips,

Still the same,

Except for one.

This one grows among the others,

Fighting for sunlight with the rest,

It is more beautiful than all of them,

Full of life, full of color.

Another day I go back,

To all the tulips,

And the different tulip,

The single tulip,

That was full of life, and full of color,

Is no longer there.

Instead a new one is in its place,

And all the tulips,

Are all the same again,

Blooming under the bright, yellow sun.