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Apr 2015
Those tiny buds blossom;
Like miracles,
Or prayers from the dead.
Uncurling like a baby's fist
White then pink then red.
I forgot how I missed
Those precious beads of life
A transient ode to the suns' first kiss
An end to unending winter,
death, and strife.
The start of new life.
MsAmendable
Written by
MsAmendable  24/F/British Colombia, Canada
(24/F/British Colombia, Canada)   
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