The monarch, the bud, and I
Does anyone see the monarch?
That won't settle on the tree,
The grace that pulses with each beat of the wing,
Am I the only one that can see?
What happened to the bud that bloomed?
That dared to grow so soon
The beauty enveloped with a green canopy,
Did it whither before noon?
What took the innocence of I?
That produced awe to the passer by,
The sweetness that came off in soft waves,
Has it all been a lie?
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Comments about this poem (The monarch, the bud, and I by chyna parker )
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