Poetry

The Dead Bud…


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‘The Dead Bud…’

A little bud, closed,
In spring,
Amidst colorful blossoms…
Head bent,
Sad, it
wishes for tomorrow
To be born.
Still unborn,
But hold onto dreams,
Want to be a flower, it did
But the next day a storm,
Wild and fierce,
Plucked it off…
Dead, oh, never
seeing the life of a flower…

~~~

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