She blossoms early
In the morning,
When the half-wakened dawning
Beams on her dreamily
Violet face.
As soon as the sun shines
With growing passion,
She becomes gloomy,
For those aggressive gazing,
She cannot put up with.
Missing the tenderness of dew,
Feeling heavy, dusty.
She decides to drowse away
For the rest of the day,
And wait for the brightness
Gently delivered by dawn,
Which pours vitality
Into the smile of this morning glory.
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