Poem in Progress

I think it's almost finished.  But then, I finished it back in April, then decided I didn't like it and started over.  I like this version better, but that last verse may still get some tweaking. 

Weeds

Most people see me as a weed
Unacceptable, unbearable, intolerable
Because I am neither elegant rose
Nor stately orchid gently nodding a graceful head.

I don't belong in their cultured gardens
Unworthy, unwanted, unloved
An outsider.  An invader to be pulled up
Cast aside, or tossed into the fire.

But I have beauty, too, though of a different sort.
The capricious whimsy of the wind in my eyes,
The merry twinkle of starlight in my soul,
And a heart filled with the echo of the wild goose's cry.

But those who can truly see me
Those rare few who get to know my heart
And touch my soul, they are blessed for
They will see that I'm a flower, too.