Category Archives: Written in 1996
The rape of youth, by cruel fate and time,
Long since negates the sweetness of those flowers;
Betraying love and murdering the rhyme
Which tells of hope surpassing deadly hours.
Those flowers you gave to me are red, the red
Which’s all that’s left on a virgin bride’s bed;
Those flowers you gave to me are soft and bright;
Tomorrow, tell me, will they please my sight?
Will those petals shrivel and lose their hue,
Or will they remain so – to love just me?
Oh, no, do not reply. (I know those tears, too!)
Those dew drops upon those petals I see,
They fade, e’en now, before my wary eye;
‘Tis best not to know that e’en now they die!
The stars have filled the dark’ning sky with white
And silver sparks begin to shoot around;
The breeze shifts through the trees and sighs, at night,
For day allows it no audience, no sound.
I move at leisure on rain-kissed pathways
And wonder whether the breeze loves the trees
It whistles through; for, during lonely days,
It rests under the sun, above the seas;
At night, returns home and sings for the trees.
Sometimes I ache to see this lone affair
And weep to know there are locks, but no keys
To hearts that will not open, never tear.
And then I see the rustling leaves and know,
And then I feel the breeze which cancels my woe.