Clutching a dying rose,
Waiting for you to turn your glance.
With arms outstretched and hearts a flutter,
Here I am.
Here I have always been.
Waiting.
Petals fall.
Summer turns to autumn.
Night dawns.
But the dark cannot not put out the light
Of an innocence so pure.
So here I will wait.
Till you glance lands on me someday
Maybe.
.f
