My Flower

I once held a rose in my hand Nurtured and cared for; It was all I had. Content and satisfied I deemed myself, For it held True love indeed From its stem to buds to roots I could not find another to cherish, And like a ferry I was merry-go-around I gazed at it nights and days And even went out of my ways To water and keep How could such a flower, Such a blossom, Fall out of my grasp? The flower was not for me to keep Nor was it for me to nurture. No, it was not my duty For after all my efforts It turned gloomy, And i became moony Like a wolf. And i sought to fertilize my flower Trying to keep it float, Trying to make it love. When my efforts weren't enough I went berserk like a lion to its prey But i failed to my dismay. All i wanted was to watch her grow And if that's what my flower does I will be happy indeed, A poor humble farmer on life's teeth. I will be happy that my flower, I did not ignore, I will never ignore; Happy to say that my flower is in good hands That she has plenty of land And that that land Is meant for she, That such land is better for flowers Than for keeping close at Home Home Where true love takes heed, A farmer's Home, Where true love lies indeed.