Lurching left to right, on an unsteady bicycle
My tiny flower was practising with endless giggles
Until she hit an unanticipated obstacle
And fumbled with tears over her dimples
I wondered, will roses ever cry?
To pick my fallen star, I hastened in plea
Her poor brown eyes gazed at me in need
When I found blood on an impaired knee
I doubted, will stars ever bleed?
- A father
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