You slipped from my hands like the wind, you let go, the light waned, there are no words.
Is it a soundless goodbye?
Beloved, on my skin a wound sprang with pain, I must nurture it.
How could a blind man sense the light and his ways?
I owned a heart overwhelmed with emotions, six years, like yesterday.
I never saw the glances fusing you and Peter, the gardener. I preferred to ignore.
A new season will issue, Darling, I'm an old oak tree in the corner of the garden, you are a fresh flower seduced by the wind, and the skills of Peter set the light up in the corners of your heart.
You slipped from my hands like the wind, you let go, the light waned, there are no words.