A Flower's Farewell

In a field of blooming flowers under the delightful sun,
I saw you reflecting your own shine.
No flower can match your beauty,
and so, on your amusing image, my eyes rest.

Softly you swayed, going with the flow of
that same wind that gently caressed my skin.
I stood still amidst the cold breeze,
and with a longing heart, I whispered your name.

From afar, I was hoping for it to reach you,
So I listened to every echo it made,
through and between mountains,
"It'll reach you," I say.

Only minutes passed, yet the wait felt longer.
No sound echoed back, and the wind got colder.
Either the mountains did not give way,
or you just didn't whisper in return.

"I hope it was the former," I muttered.
Days gone by, and days became months,
My heart remains unchanged, still whispering.
I should've whispered louder.

Until a sound came, the wind told me so.
It was a sound of despair, from a sobbing heart.
I followed it and it brought me to you;
withering and full of thorns.

In a field of withering flowers under the unhappy sun.
I saw you losing your shine.
With tears in my eyes, I whispered "I love you,"
and walked away.

- 2Pen