Water pools in the folds of a flower,
Delicate and glistening,
Among the ruins of a storm.
Unruffled, it glows,
Announcing itself as though it won a battle,
And claimed this land for all it's worth.
I've never been one to be a leader,
And found myself in trouble more than I'd care to admit.
But if a Chrysanthemum as lovely as this can withstand the weather,
And wave through storms as if they were breeze,
I will become just as strong
And bend along with them.
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