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Camille The flower rested on the branch, the clasp Of petal folded in upon itself A treasure box tight closed within, at last Breathed in the sun’s bright rays and found life’s wealth. Enclosed by hawthorns robbing light, it dwelled Developed beauty deep within its core Well hid from predatory touch it held The light denied, inside to shine once more. The Gardner with his sword of Truth erased The thorny prison and that fairest bud Unfolded in her true form, guided, graced To be the beauty of His nature’s blood. May you, one fair, sweet flower, slowly grow Towards the You that only God now knows. |
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