A breeze came about
And helped the poor flower,
Who was losing her definition of “beautiful”
With every passing hour.
The wind stood her upright,
Offered his shoulder to lean on,
But she didn’t want to be fooled,
And she grew more withdrawn.
The wind would not give up:
He curled around her stem
Until she was not a flower anymore
But she was his pretty pink gem.
The warm breeze melted the ice
And the flower’s petals bloomed.
They shook with laughter when the wind came around
While the sun from his throne in the sky fumed.
He could burn out
For all the flower cared,
Because she was happy now,
Filled with the moments she and the wind now shared.
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