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The story of the most beautiful flower in the field. |
| A flower, the shape it takes Red at the stem, Black at the hem, But in the wind it never shakes Changes colors, many times Its petals often do, Red, Yellow, Black, Blue Up the leaves, the color climbs The flower’s beauty is incomparable To the others in the field, Imperfections which they wield, But these flaws are found by others bearable The flower roots next to none Solitary is the grass, Its manner that of brass, But many friends it has, this flower, this one Who will root with this wonder? To know its ways, Share the sun’s rays, I will come under I will share the rays. For as long as it stays. |