Upon the soil where patriots bled,
A zinnia in hues of sunbeams spread.
Its golden petals whisper tales,
Of sacrifice, where history prevails.

In buttered yellow, a hopeful light,
Ignites the fight for freedom’s height.
Yet, at its tips, a scarlet trace,
Binds to fields, a haunting grace.

Amidst the clash of musket roars,
The zinnia blooms, courage implores.
Its red-tipped petals, like blood-stained sod,
Mirror battles fought for freedom’s God.

A revolutionary war in nature’s guise,
Where the bloom and battlefield synchronize.
With each petal’s tale, a saga is spun,
Of liberty sought ‘neath the blazing sun.

In crimson echoes on petals fair,
Reflects the cost, the heavy air.
Yet, amidst the strife, the zinnia stands,
A symbol of hope in blood-soaked lands.

For every drop the earth did drink,
A zinnia’s tip with red does link.
In fields where courage took its stand,
A flower weaves history, a bloom so grand.