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Lost Seedlings
I came across
lost seedlings,
abandoned
in a musty bin
of a garage.
Then heard
a meek mist pleading,
" oh, fern soil,
praise them
with your yard."
" Douse kaleidoscope
cool droplets,
those days
scorched
furnace dark;"
"And clover-cove
when
frigid snow
abrades
their glinting spark."
Copyright ©
Lissette J. Garcia
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