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Replying to a comment on:
Tulip (Free verse) by richa The poor tulip boy has poor taste
that he loves his patch
and his trowel and spade
and his landlord, the dame,
that he sells to in the market
his red and yellow flames.
I am a poor tulip boy
with not a purse nor a name
made to grow tulips in clay
and sleep in my shoes
on a poor tulip boy wage
happy, to sell none today.
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