Settling down from its normal rush of pace,
The wind slows down to show me the way,
The way across a plain,
In hopes I'd find life there,
In hopes I'd find the one,
To separate the dead from the alive
Walking, I start to worry,
The Earth dressed in tones of brown and beige,
Half of the flowers are gone,
Taken away in the song of a love bird
Half of them torn,
Their petals wilting where they lay,
Like the heart of a broken lover,
Slowly fading,
Slowly losing glow in the cheeks,
Slowly hardening their softened eyes,
Slowly fading...
But the wind tells me to follow the signs,
To follow the leader with its heart-beat pace,
Telling me to ignore this place,
Where petals are ripped off,
In a flurry to find the love they seek,
Before winter sets in
The wind hushes about a single clover
In the middle of the barren field
I long to pick it,
That single piece of life that only I found,
And make it my lucky treasure,
Make it mine
Or I could follow the trend,
And pluck its four velvet hearts one by one
To wish for his love,
But it all depends on what is first said,
He loves me,
He loves me not,
To make the difference between love alive or dead
