And plucked its pink petals with greedy pleasure,
But when she held the velvet petals in her hand,
She frowned and threw them in the air frustrated;
She had not managed to strip the larkspur of its beauty.
Where the larkspur got such bloom,
She would ask if it would tell,
But its beauty is a secret,
The larkspur won't spill.
This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.




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