Thursday, December 13, 2007

The Flower Child’s Song

Waltzing through Life,
Buoyant with happiness,
Bubbling over with joy.

Flurries on a winter morning,
Her song on the radio,
A crisp new flower,
A never-fading smile,

These, her definition of Perfection.

The vagabond has found a hearth to settle in.
Her meanderings have slowed down to a halt.
Her music has found a brand new crescendo.
Her life is spun with a brand new fabric now.

Now, she doesn’t want to leave.
Now, she doesn’t want you to leave.

Stay here, won’t you?
Beside me, forever?

2 comments:

Unwinding Hours said...

Wonderfully wonderful! How do you get such beautiful words in your head? Lovely!

Unknown said...

perfection...goes w/o saying :)