The Daisy

Wet and dreary was the day,
a melancholy storm came and went away.

Droplets of water lay upon the fields in sight,
Wind had blown with all its might.

Laying waste to plants a plenty,
old barns, and houses, at least twenty.

Alone and solitary stood a daisy,
Straight and tall between fog so hazy.

Delicate strength enduring,
even as the rain had been pouring.

The sturdy stem withholds the petals,
bright and sparkling like winning medals.

Now that the stormy plight is past,
the daisy remains beautiful upon the somber grass.

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