Have you heard the girl with sun on her skin,
Who makes flowers grow from a light within?
Runs through the world leaving life in her wake,
With blossoms lining the path she does take,
She must be quite shy for she's never seen,
But she's what paints the grass such a rich green,
I've heard it said that there's dew in her veins,
Whenever hurting or lonely, it rains,
Listen on nights that are early in spring,
You’ll hear her voice on the breeze, she does sing.
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