Red ♼ flower
☸ ☸ ☸ ☸ ☸ ☸
I cannot say how she came to me,
the surprise that took my breath.
The laugh, the smile, the younger style
of her fragrant heart.
Like a real daughter and not a son,
her name spells fun and makes me young
and we were friends it seemed as old as time,
no guilt, questions or lust, just angel dust.
And she the angel who walks so cute
and me the old brute in wisdom’s suit.
We talked and made our chat
as we rode the waves of this and that,
Of work, experience, the past.
of plans and hopes and dreams that last.
When suddenly a secret bird caused me to fear
death drew near and I heard it’s sound
it almost took me to the ground.
And listening to the sound of doves,
I knew this bird was born of love.
A love I knew could never be,
in spite of me, in spite of you.
A pain now gripped me deep inside
until my prayers caused me to see,
That love may live as pure as any dove
or birds that circle round our heads,
may still fly free above this place,
where now might only flowers grow,
while reaching high or stooping low.
Flower red, I hold you free
as flowers always, ought to be