Beyond the tiger lilies, In the garden of the child. The Ragwort and the Thistle grow as wild. Along the cobbled pathway, In between forget-me-not. The foxglove harbours in this shady spot. Yet slender dewdrops dangle, Precarious from the frond. Then fall, to ripple out upon the pond. And seductively, the nature, of another day is born. For here awakes the majesty of Morn.
Reason for writing:
This time of year inspires me.
Birth sign: Gemini
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