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The Garden

Green with leaves,

Red with roses.

There stands the shed,

There lie the hoses.

White with Jasmine,

Yellow with sunflower.

There stands the birdbath,

There mows the lawnmower.

There lie the weeds,

Which I do not wish to heed,

There lies the pond,

Fresh and blue, does not tawn.

Flowers give the scent, 

Without which this garden is bent.

Butterflies glide near and far,

Stopping then and there to suck sweet nectar.

Glistening with morning dew,

There are the roses, fresh and born,

Pulling you nearer and nearer,

It shocks you with a piercing thorn.

The garden glistens in happiness,

When rain is sprayed by clouds,

There can never be anything more delightful,

Than a garden with nature, cheering out loud.


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