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The Delicate Flower
by
Allison Heraty
(Age: 21)
copyright 06-22-2002
Contest Winner
Age Rating: 10 to 127
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She is the delicate flower
yet as winter nears
her once beautiful petals
gracefully caress the browning grass.
Once loved was she,
when the new hope of spring
kissed the Earth's dying bliss.
She, the delicate flower
came forth, surrounding those around her
with perpetual joy.
She, the delicate flower,
was happy and serene.
'Twas she who illuminated the
silhoutted night sky.
'Twas she who made the stars shine.
Every night did we stop to watch
Her image of sovereignty.
Awestruck, we sat in silence,
and watched her fade
yet reach to help, we did not.
She, the delicate flower,
was calling for help,
inside her heart was screaming,
yet reach to help we did not.
The heavenly Earth
fell from reigning beauty.
Trees, the green leaves, the dew sprinkled grass,
all, lay cold, motionless
on the slowly dying Earth.
'Twas she, the delicate flower,
belligerent in her will to live,
was screaming from inside.
her wondrous petals,
her lovely, mystic stem,
all, fading, fading, fading.
She, the delicate flower,
stood alone on that
cold, malignant day.
The ominous winds blew in their wake.
She, the delicate flower,
called out for one last time,
yet no one heard her plea,
no one knew that
she, the delicate flower,
was dying all along.
We, the devious children,
had left her all alone.
She, the delicate flower,
the precious flower,
is dead.
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