bloom

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I looked out my window On a dark April evening And my heart lifted up.   One Yellow  Pansy Had bloomed,  
I prayed for flowers and was sent rain. I cried while it thundered, but the irises that bloomed were breathtaking.  The waiting was the hardest part. 
The first sign of spring is like this should be new year’s, not the era of the dead, icebox hand of winter clutching Mother Nature,   like the fingers of the pastel, cotton-candy dawn
A single seed, unknowingly holding burden She doesn't know anything The hate she must determine She's locked up in a world of imposters a world full of monsters This seed which was planted
I hide my body, And decorated my soul, I don't put doormats or door signs, That says "welcome" anymore, I got rid of all the dodders, And sowed seeds of dreams in my chest,
Pitter patter drip drop Rain unending  Rain never stops And just when, just when  the gutter overflows, and grass rapidly grows Just when  dark clouds loom 
She is a wildflower. Not picked for her beauty, but for her wild heart. A child of mother nature  she grows in the darkest of places. Through the cracks of brokenness she blooms with grace.
A bloom for you by Vir Singh   The spring is at its climax Birds are singing with the music of winds Celebrating the spring season.
Her lips, sweet wet lips, hundred roses in their burst, can't with them compete. #haiku
To a Lavender named Lucy   Oh my pretty, fresh, young yet lovely and precious Lavender I have no creativity as thee To write in papers of colour
Jazsmin jaz - man     noun      f  1. A blossoming flower that will always keep growing She silently developes within the faith of her blooms
When our species is summoned  Brought from the unknown Where in is one's spirit shown? It is hidden deeply within only obviously felt when  you feel it radiating remembering where
March twenty-fifth is when I missed your tender kiss.
All of us are like flowers, we start out real slow. From a really small seed, we learn things as we grow. To be better than someone else is our focus rather than the flow. Everyone has their moment,
you know its spring when,a chalky finger points the wayon the face of broken pavement too,a tulip gardens bed and,a splash of color grows.
By: Elena Canelli
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