Blooms, regardless of who might notice
The spot where it so quietly grows,
The flower, unseen, un-smelled, still retains
The sweet perfume its petals enclose,
Waiting for the visit by a honey bee.
Or, perhaps, the approach of a nose
Belonging to someone stopped by
The blossom's pure beauty, I suppose...
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| (Photograph By Bryan Moyers) |
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