I was waiting for a hand
To catch up with mine
But my hand was left catching
December's cold
I look over to the place
where she used to stand
Not even a fallen pedal
But her scent remains
So I followed the bees
and I saw what was out there
But none of those flowers
Were familiar to me
Where's the flower
I had picked every day?
Who's nectar had
the sweetest taste?
Who's colors were unique
In every way?
I'll keep wishing
For her scent to stay
But where's the flower
I had picked every day?
Dec 15, 2020
Dec 15, 2020 at 2:15 PM UTC
I was waiting for a hand
To catch up with mine
But my hand was left catching
December's cold
I look over to the place
where she used to stand
Not even a fallen pedal
But her scent remains
So I followed the bees
and I saw what was out there
But none of those flowers
Were familiar to me
Where's the flower
I had picked every day?
Who's nectar had
the sweetest taste?
Who's colors were unique
In every way?
I'll keep wishing
For her scent to stay
But where's the flower
I had picked every day?
