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I heard a certain cry

That made me sigh

I wished I could stand up

But I kept going down

Until the opportunity came

And I wouldn't hesitate

I saw the artist

Playing with his brush

Splashing paint

And telling stories

I tried it once

But failed it

I never gave up

Till the painting was done

I felt a certain pain

And then a voice again

I kept wondering

And wondering

Until the day came

And the flower blossomed more

They all told a story

With only a tiny brush.

Yr. 6 Parakeet, Tutu Phoebe

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