I don’t think I should be here
among the star gazers and velvet
tongued empresses, I am awkward
petals and stiff limbs, my leaves
do not fade and fall, I am never reborn
nor do I return to earth to poke
my way into warmth. Snow settles
on my evergreen sleep, wind rattles
through branches that do not bare.
Yet every summer, when the sun
moves away, pink and white
blossoms remind me I am
more than just a shrub.
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