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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