We wait for the night,
dry from the sun,
weak to our roots.
We yearn for moisture,
petals limp,
stems drooping.
We wait for the night,
for the moonlight
to ease our pain.
We wait for the dew
to quench our thirst,
to replenish our souls.
We wait for the sun
to lift its fiery head
and begin its daily ritual.
We are ready
to face the new day
with arms lifted.
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