Lotus
She stood alone in the slush
Her head held high
But the eyes she cared for
Failed to notice her pride
The others when they danced in mirth
With the wind and the bees
She stood firm in her girth
Her face upturned towards the skies
She prayed may those eyes
Not notice the slush
For though she stood there
She did not belong to that mesh
As death approached the day
She too began to stoop
The slush claiming its right on her
Her face painted with rouge
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