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The little budDeep in the forest, grows a flower,
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Still fresh and green, it has no power,
As its bud began to form
So a mind it did adorn.
It wondered with its mind so new,
About the ground, the grass, the dew,
It wondered more about itself,
About its leaves, about its health,
But wonder as the flower might,
Its blossoming colour hid from sight.
All around it watched in awe,
As other buds shells tore,
Flowers all around burst out,
Voices sang as they danced about.
The bud became enchanted though,
A ruby rose with such a glow,
But the rose had thorns to slash,
The little bud's love, it turned to ash.
But our hero's tears did draw
Another who casts all in awe,
The little bud did fall in love
With something whiter than a dove,
A lily of the valley, her name,
But with a soul so full of game
She whisked our bud into such life
But accidentally cut, like a knife.
And so our bud once more alone,
Wondered why it had not grown.
Summer turned to autumn frost,
The bud it thought its life was lost,
But winter gl