Blooms

A flower gently bloomed,
Before my unseeing eyes,
And many years passed,
Before I realized what I had before me,
Yet I waited before I advanced upon it,
But as one wishes to see a wildflower grow,
To spawn into its glory,
One often misses the chance,
To harvest and keep it for all of eternity,
And coming too late I realized,
The perfect bloom had withered,
Into spoiled petals laying around a rotting core,
That had never been given a chance to be cherished for its beauty,

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