Primrose Flower
      I  am hooked on this picture,         Merely of a flower,          Nothing special or petite,                 Nothing quite so intricate,         Or sweet, No no,              Only a picture of,              A Primrose yellow,              Vivacious and callow,             Filled with life and vitality,             Life and the Primrose flower,             Compares me to a lulling song,             Quaintly restoring my heart,             To feel free from hurt,             Or Woe or pain or dismay,             Or tragedy or fear of anything,              Everything is left to be a fight,           Not violent or aggressive,             But passionate and slight,             Like the Primrose flower,             Sits untainted and small,             Enough to fit in my palm,             In my memory uplifting and tall,             Like a cherished love,             A small babe,             Or a lil bird,             A thrush or dove,             The flower battles,          ...
 
 
 
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