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.
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