In the garden where the sun still shone,
A white tulip bloomed, silent, alone.
No seed was planted, no hand did sow,
Yet there it stood, a soft, pure glow.
Its petals kissed by morning dew,
A whisper of love, tender and true.
It bloomed for her, who once was here,
A symbol of grace, a sign so dear.
Through seasons’ change, it...
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