One morning in May after a shower
There bloomed the most beautiful of any flower
That ever I've seen before or since
Whose beauty any other flower merely hints
It stood proudly like a vision of grace
But I learned the hard way, as is often the case
That this beautiful flower was not meant for me
I was not meant to touch it, only to see
Ignorant of this, I picked it from the earth
From that good soil that had given us birth
But as soon as I'd done that, it withered away
Leaving me empty on that dream-like day
All through the field there arose a slight buzz
As the insects mourned the flower that was
A year passed me by, 'til again it was May
And I went for a walk on a beautiful day
A mile from home I saw in the shade
A sight to behold, by no human hand made
There grew a flower like the one I had seen
When last these forgotten fields were green
But I did not stop, I merely walked by
As I fought back the tears I did not want to cry
For I was not meant to touch it, only to see
I know that such beauty is not meant for me
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