Magenta.
Tiny orchids.
That you call to hear my voice.
Knowing I can get things done.
Someone who will drive me many miles, when I miss the train.
Grass.
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I feel the earth move sunward, I join the great march onward, And take, by faith, while living, My freehold of thanksgiving. ~from "My Triumph" by John Greenleaf Whittier
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