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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