To Neen - Aah

Perhaps too much in the sun the flower Of your love is withering, or maybe It is the roots rotting since the shower Is too much. Perhaps it is the tree I need to trim; and since I am all these Perhaps it's I that must my presence Take to the lonely wilderness and wait. Let Me suffer all the anguish, but not sense Unhappiness in your countenance; regret In your desire. I cannot shine or rain Or grow with the world that now is you. If I was to be banished from your terrain, I could live my unhappy years just knowing That you live; that hope makes life a blessing.