Scribbles
The Blume
She stood weary neath the blazing sun
Bending her winsome visage,
She stood thirsty with her drying roots
Drooping her dazzling foliage,
She stood gazing at a little bug
Dangling her alluring petals.
Suddenly touched by the zephyr
She felt a little woozy.
Trip, trip, trip it starts to rain
Tickling the tiring blossom,
Elated by the nature's treat
She raised her arching body,
Then she stood and nudge her bestie
And swayed like a little wave,
Slowly a child came to her
And marvelled at her beauty,
She greeted it by touching itspalm
But the child did pluck her off.

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