Flow'r, you lay upon my desk
Soft white contrast with black
Your petals curl so luciously
Spinning round, then comin' back.
I might've folded you in pink
Or something more mundane
But in a fit o'artistic fervor
I made you crisp and plain.
Nothing more than white petals
Petals tipped with black
Comin' 'cross without much fuss
With boldness others lack.
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