The Tulip

Down my road, behind my house, a garden can be found,
grown with love and devotion, in a warm and fertile ground.
In a bed of flowers, there is a tulip, pretty and sweet,
it’s petals are dark brown, looking smooth and very neat.
A slender stem makes it tall and I watch it as it towers,
yet it holds itself with pride, eyed by the other flowers.
Its aroma fills my head and makes me dizzy and delighted,
I hold its splendour in my mind, blinded and excited.
If I pick that tulip, is it mine to pluck and have it in my home?
Is it wrong to steal its beauty and to keep it as my own?
Would it radiate my soul, would its perfume still deliver?
Or does it not belong to me, would it droop and start to wither?

Its place is in the garden so I must resist temptation
so others can admire, and acquire its inspiration.

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