Bloom
I see your rose has not awakened
Dare it be small and shaken
Does it create as it sews beauty?
It seems to deceive thine eye
Disclosed its source so hidden
Yet magically enters its seeds from heaven
So demonstratively is to extract passion
And exists the reason for its position
As in the waiting is the suffering that’s due
To caress the tips of what will be new
Forever reveling in the bloom.

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