The Wildflower
It could have been you,
hiding behind the post,
stretching out your arms,
faced upturned and smiling
at the early morning sun.
You were waving at me softly,
swaying with the breeze,
it was only wishful thinking,
but you look so much the same.
As I walked a little closer
I nearly called your name.
A scent so very subtle
drifted through the air,
reminding me of the last time
I tied a ribbon in your hair.
I picked the wildflower for you,
but you're much too far away,
shall wilt before you see it,
this one I picked today.
Against its velvet petals
can't watch you stroke your face,
but together we will pick the one
that grows up in its place.
This goes into the special book
pressed between the pages,
hidden in our secret place
we've known about for ages,
knowing when you come again
will be the first place that you look.
hiding behind the post,
stretching out your arms,
faced upturned and smiling
at the early morning sun.
You were waving at me softly,
swaying with the breeze,
it was only wishful thinking,
but you look so much the same.
As I walked a little closer
I nearly called your name.
A scent so very subtle
drifted through the air,
reminding me of the last time
I tied a ribbon in your hair.
I picked the wildflower for you,
but you're much too far away,
shall wilt before you see it,
this one I picked today.
Against its velvet petals
can't watch you stroke your face,
but together we will pick the one
that grows up in its place.
This goes into the special book
pressed between the pages,
hidden in our secret place
we've known about for ages,
knowing when you come again
will be the first place that you look.
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