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In a garden bathed in golden sun, I saw delicate flowers, each and every one. Their petals danced with grace, so fair, But a dilemma arose, a challenge to bear. For my dear grandmother, with loving hands, Sought to pluck those blooms from their lands. To gather them, as was her devout task, To present to God, a humble chore. But in my heart, I felt a whispering plea, To let these flowers flourish, wild and free. To preserve their beauty, to let them thrive, And offer gratit...
