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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