Hark, Oh, rose petal migrant;
Swiftly dangling here and there,
To where is thine destiny aren't?
Every day a new breeze, your hair,
When the stem doesn't not never let go of its released embrace...of you.
Taste the dew, you do, when you're due for dew;
For only you are true to hold me through.
Stop - listen. Precisely;
Rose petal migrant.
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