I write about the boy I lost
From a time so long ago.
I write about love's deadly cost
And how we've sunk so low.
I write about a flower field
And beautiful days of sun,
Expecting to tend the harvest yield
And dreaming of days to come.
I write about the sea
And how it erodes the rock:
How you were the sea and the rock was me
And how I was reeling from the shock.
I write about the pain,
And what it does to the human heart;
How cleansing, like a summer rain,
Forgiveness is a start.
I write about the desert flower,
Growing against all odds:
How before the sun it does not cower,
And though blown by the mighty winds, barely nods.
But mostly, I write about the brilliance and strength
Found within the human heart:
How tired it may seem at length
Before exploding into impeccable art.