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I watch the rain fall softly on the ferns
And form a perfect droplet on each frond
Such innocence in action that soon turns
The muddy little puddles into ponds
That grow in strength to overflow their beds
Consuming all that lies within their reach
Transforming homes where hungry mouths were fed
Into a lonely stretch of endless beach.
Where blissful backyard bashes reigned before
And rain fell on the land and graced the slopes
Those grassy knolls once there, are nevermore
Just hearths reduced to piles of shattered hopes.
And so it is when Mother Nature turns–
A faucet unattended drowns the ferns.

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