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Flowers

I touch the ground, I caress its face.
A seed filled with hidden colors
I press into its place.
Does it grow because I believe it’s so ?
Or is it because of an ancient code it knows?

How absurd for me to think,
A thing of beauty grows
From a tiny spec of dust.
But even my disbelief and my refusal to see,
Does not destroy its trust.

Suddenly, a tip of green peeks out
And wiggles its arms at me!
A tiny speck of a shoot pops up,
Then another, yet another!
Followed by a flower’s shout!

Soon there are more,
With flowers galore.
I cannot believe my eyes
As to the sky they soar!  

Previously bare ground,
Now dressed with colors sublime,
Decorate my world
With the help of rain, and bright sunshine. 

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