Rain

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The pale bud dances in the dark

 Swaying to the beat of the wind

Playful, but purposeless.

 

Like rain, words pour down on her soul

 Enriching and enlivening.

 She puts a flow to them

  Minute and nearly unnoticeable,

 Their effect, though, packs power.

 

 She plants herself, growing stronger each day

 Taking in the magnificence of life

 And rewording it into magic.

 

 An effervescent white radiates off of her petals

 Glowing with purpose.

 All she needs is a bit of wonder and words

 To yield a new grace.

 

 The power of words, of poetry, has transformed a young bud into

Something that can spread the beauty of language to other souls.

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