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A Cry for Help
Dont keep me hidden,
in this dark room,
please show me the sun,
so that I can bloom.
I know you kept me here,
just to keep me warm,
but now it is time,
to show me the dawn.
I am ready to flower,
I need some light,
and the warmth of the sun,
that shines so bright.
I have been shut away,
all winter long,
my bulb and stem,
are now extra strong.
My date is near,
to join all the rest,
and show off my trumpet
at it's very best.
I dont care where I stand,
or where I go,
I just want to put on,
a very good show.
I am boasting not,
but I will be, a real smart fellow
standing proud,
in the brightest of yellow.
If I go out now,
they say I am sure to catch a chill, ,
so I am stuck in this room,
on a drafty windowsill.
It's frosty outside,
but the crocuses bloom,
and here I remain, in this dark tomb
the March winds blow, I'll be in such a state,
I know I wont pass my graduation date.
poem
by
Sylvia Spencer
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