Walking through a field of flowers
birds warbling gentle tunes,
hands entwined in lover's grasp,
while humming momentous song.
The twisting path then ensues
in exposure of a tree,
whose boughs are laden, bent and braying,
with sweet and fragrant buds.
The lover stops to take my hands,
and bows on bended knee,
to proclaim his love, for life, all time,
given feelings mimic his.
A cordial wind blows past us then,
trailing breaths, and sighs, and tears,
time speeds up to burst the blooms
and shower us with petals.
What a sweet sensation
with the flowers fluttering skin,
sweeping hardship under the door,
and letting the beauty soak deep.
My heart still beats the familiar song
whose notes will never fade,
a benign scar will soon appear
to line my bed of roses.
