I silently watched you,
Softly covered with dew.
Flower so delicate and strong,
My gaze stayed perhaps, a time to long.
Pretty flower why must you torture me so.
I am so fragile and weak, you don’t even know.
Oh that I could hold you my precious flower,
No longer then would I have to cower.
My fear of flowers, bids me fair haven.
Perhaps it is because they are a bit of heaven.
In my dreams I can watch with an unabashed eye,
The flowers in the garden pass me by.
You my precious flower, I cannot see but in my dreams,
Perhaps it is a curse, to see you only in my dreams.
But then if I saw you here today,
I would no doubt runaway.
What do I have to bring?
That would make a flower’s heart ring.
That would bring a flower to my door.
Perhaps then, I, you will no longer ignore.
I stand in the garden every day,
Hoping you will come by and stay.
But for now in my dreams you live.
Perhaps later, to me, your heart you will give.
Yes it must be later.
by Ryan Wormald