Your foreign voice and beautiful eyes,
Made my heart beat and gave color to the skies.

You'd hold my hand, tell me not to cry,
But I was facing dark reality, so how could I?

Then came the day where you had to go,
There was rain, hailstone, wind and snow.

Never will I forget the way you held my hand,
And when I would fall you would help me stand.

Now the same words play in my head,
The words that made me question if our romance was dead.

Those last few words before you said goodbye,
"Just look up, and we'll be looking at the same sky."

The forest holds many things.

Animals, fruits, a cool breeze,
but also the memories of an old man who used to run amongst the leaves.

Those memories he remembers and not one word he would get wrong, he remembers it as well as the words of a song.

In the winter, he would feel the sting of the cold air, contemplated by the beautiful snow at which he could not help but stare.

When came spring, he would run and laugh and jump and scream, drunk on the scent of flowers and the light the sun would beam.

Every summer, the hot sun would bring out his melanin, and to his content, the birds would sing.

At fall, he would lie in the fallen leaves and look at the sky, thinking of all of the new things and ideas he was willing to try.

What I'm saying is, the forest is not just pleasing aesthetics, it is the beautiful memories of every person that has stood in its mist.

Amongst beautiful pansies and roses she stood,
Picked for her mother the most stunning rose she could.

Her mother would always say the flower had pleased,
That it was the most beautiful rose her eyes would ever meet.

"Darling, thank you for this sweet offering,
Should the next person you give such beauty to be the man you are sure to be your king."

And years later she has kept her promise,
To her king she will offer a rose a kiss.

Which is why today you are the person who holds my heart,
And I offer you this rose, in hope that never shall we part.