I stopped before the shop-window
It showed flowers for selling to customers
And the eminent was telling in whispers
“Come, love me, buy me, it is my pleasure.”
“You may place me upon study table,
You may place me upon the whole house
Or in your garden, with some sticks to nail me,
I will pose with my beauty, fragrance, instead.”
It is stitch of blows on the truth, motivated,
As market moves with open buckles of drove,
Living with pleasure and moving with status
The symbolic transition is author of all maestros.
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