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Autoimmune By Jillian Horton   Lovely Tulips, I’m so grateful you’ve come to join me, In this land of dirtmuddust, Texas weather and tea.
Spring mornings, with a fresh golden mist,And heaven’s dew doth rest,Along the rows of tulips be,And it seemed I was alone, just me. Then, a fluttered sky,With beings white, and coming nigh,I shuddered in fright, only to find,Their sweet lovely ho
The tulips --Red Yellow Purple White-- Raise sleepy heads Above their bed of grass As they nod softly Still on the cusp of sleep The breeze filling dreams With spring and summer scent
All the tulips, All the same, Blooming in the bright, yellow sun. All the tulips,  Not one different, Blowing in the gentle breeze. One day I go back, To all the tulips, Still the same,
Tulips grown in sun Often picked by younger ones, Left to spurt again.
Innocence wilts, tulips in a graveyard. No hope left to flutter slowly by. Rays of sun can no longer bring her back to life.
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