Oh my tulips. I had such great plans for you. You started out so lovely:
Look how full and beautiful you are!
So why did you have to fall?
I could have tolerated one, two or even fifty out of the two hundred of you. That would have left me with plenty of tulips. But no, you had to make a mass-suicide pact. Couldn’t one of you been too chicken to follow through?!
I don’t know what I did to make you mad. But I promise, this fall I’ll dig you all up and make a better home for you. Maybe you’ll want to stick around.
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