Garden

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Fingertips and soft pink lips

The words were never spoken

About the day I left to tend my flowers

 

The wind was blowing

The sun showing

The sound of a mower afar

 

Roses, daisies, tulips

All darling in their rows

One always thought to pick the weeds

Or at least one would suppose

 

One little speck caught my eye

Colors of black and red

These little bugs tend my garden

Helping pollen spread

 

Frail, feeble flowers

Don’t give up yourselves

Weeds will try to choke you out,

But Hope will let you grow

 

Itsy-bitsy ladybug

With wings and little spots

Fight to flick those little flappers

Through the blusterous breeze

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