There is a flower that speaks of you
Born the moment you first smiled at me
And still blooming while you bade adieu.
There is a spring that speaks of your tears
Of painful departure and hours of pleasure
And you know the butterflies you once chased
Now look for their colors in some hidden treasure
The moments of ecstasy might have passed
And the flames surely have been doused
But every time the sun pierces through the gloom
The old fragrances reunite, alive and aroused.
Come home my dear, come back and behold
The brook has lost its flow and the song knows no tune
And they who pass by those woods now feel ditched and broken,
Being once promised fluid for life and a melody to croon.
Out there, somewhere in the woods
There is a flower that you had left behind
Though weathered and bereft of freshness,
Bears traces of the past, preserved for you to find.