Flower
Its no midget and no tower.
Doesnt fit with all the rest,
And is certainly not blessed.
But it will survive the rain,
Darkness, stress, and not complain.
Born anew, 't will rise again,
From a single little grain.
And if death is needed,
Its life for love will be conceded.
But it also has demands:
Two commited, loving hands.
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