Like a cascade of hues embellished in a portrait,
She yearned for the stars, and a potpourri of the florets.
When the world embraced the ritual of its repose,
She stood drenched in sweat, vigilantly, keeping on her toes;
And yet, oozing with hope for the morrow of gourmet,
Like a cascade of hues embellished in a portrait.
They chose mediocrity over valor in their chores,
Mayhap, she was bizzare; she fancied an abandoned, lonely shore;
To stand out from the crowd -- frenzy like the torrent,
She yearned for the stars, and a potpourri of the florets.
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