It was the bee who showed me

the withered edge of the fried egg poppy.  Those petals like sheaves of paper.  Delicate yet tensile.  The bee, determined.  
 

Bee as hovercraft on caffeine

Bees are among the most intensely intent beings I've encountered. Single-focused. Come to think of it, I know one or two follks who behave as hovercraft. = And what of the fried egg poppy? Well, she doesn't seem fazed at all.

An egg for breakfast

Affectionately nicknamed, fried-egg poppy.  Stridently cheerful.  Downright optimistic.  One bloom is an entire garden.  Paper skin -- perfect for a petite poem.  Written, of course, in yellow ink.