By wayside uncared they lie
Yet charming the weary eye
With smile of a little child
And fragrance soothing mild
Shrouded in layers of green
Bringing to life a Monet scene
Swaying along on a breezy day
They see a lonely pilgrim pray
Lost in thoughts their colors are
Of ever making a journey so far
At last they know their own fate
To stay rooted and each day wait
Spreading joy until each sleeps
Like the promise a pilgrim keeps
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