Climbing the
Wallflower high clinging
Truths are away washing away
Dear shame of pliant nurture
Spring rain a falling on
Wildflower orchards’
Invasive battery recalls
The yokel botanist
Hath mastered past recedes
Of princess tree
The sudden dashed
To gusting trim
Out each and every
Direction gentile
Growing on a mind
Gnawing hath made nerves
Of iron seal
A gentle trimming to the vine
Having wrought an empress high
And slight out from cane of foreign fields
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