I have 3629 stories published in
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The seed cannot contain the flower once it has heard the voice of Spring, nor has the cocoon any power to hold back the butterflies wings; the change of season has begun
Just wee Tom Thumb am I; lost in the towering grass; leaning upon the trunk of every daffodil I pass. My life span may be days; my heart beat a bee’s wing but I’m honoured to gaze