My dear, little friend
Your countenance is filled with courage
Your spine, straight, as the wind surges
You fear not an end
My dear, little friend
You stand up though not the greatest
You are stout against the tempest
But you don’t condescend
What gives you such pride
As I hold you in my rough hands
Your pristine, I can’t understand
How you can abide
Wherein do you confide
Deep and buried, yet take in the light
Sedentary, nomadic sight
Such a placid bride
For me, it’s Adam
Fearless amidst provenience
Flawed by an evil contrivance
Struck down by Balaam
For you, it’s Eden
With thorns and thickets and bracken
Without: dirt and dust and ashen
Not all green is glen
As guilt is my dun
So you have the sun
I owe not a debt
This smile I will stet
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