n a cool Spring morning, a crocus blooms,

Covered with dewdrops,

glistening in the sun,

The day is beginning,

the night is done.

On a cool Spring evening,

the crocus wilts,

Withered and faded,

resting on the ground,

The night is beginning,

the day is done.

The End

Story by: Shella, age 12, USA

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