The Lonely Blossom

As I wander throughout the woods,
I see an object, vivid and frail,
I saw it to be lonesome goods,
That still throughout chaos would prevail.

I could not see how such an object,
Could be living through all these weeds,
I was tempted by that perfect,
To capture it for own mere needs.

The fragile beauty had me swayed,
Among much caution I went nearer,
Thus much closer, I was afraid,
It was a blossom, this was clearer.

When my own hand had nearly drawn,
Something had pushed my fraught hand away,
This I knew to be a small fawn,
Who then consumed the flower-plain as day.

Lost and regretful I had stood,
If only a mere moment nearer,
I would have seized it-oh if I could!
The fragile blossom that was so dear.

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