In bloom, so you are,
Grand flowers, plates, ersatz leaves ~
The better for that.

The first of your kind:
Made Ceratopsians sneeze ~
A shock of colour.

Pruning suits you not,
and sure, why should it? Pointless ~
Give us more flowers.

This land is so old,
doesn’t even realise,
How evil it is…

… but after each Spring,
you blanket the soil ~ a gift:
A bed for Angels.

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