Amaryllis

The amaryllis hugged its secret close, The only clue the bulb's excessive size. Tight-lipped, forbidding, it remained as dead Day after day, sad-colored and morose, Denying access to enquiring eyes. It seemed that there was no more to be said. The first split was too small for green to show, The second, broader - maybe leaf and flower? They both grew briskly, plump as well as tall But both as loath as ever to let go. Then last night in the darkness came the hour That broke discretion's seal, explaining all.

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