To describe what a picture only knows
in fields where our hearts once did gather
while daffodils shed its children all around
is to see what you feel while the wind blows

Beyond a blessing is a promise to keep
we are only so eager when we are afraid
artful hopeful prayers ask graces pardon
for the hurtful things that we always speak

In the chance that the silent moon gave us
was a common hurt that we once shared
we walked together feeling knowing crying
over things our scars no longer care to discuss

You said you wanted to be pretty again
as if I was somehow worthy of your life
yet if you had not become the light I see
then our past would have lived in vain

When we give up our finer things for grief
we realize being alone is not a just game
losing only means a ration of hardened hearts
that the lonely substitute quietly for belief

In the stolid minds of those who cannot
are the memories of someone who could
and in them lives a friend who knew you well
ready to show you all the things that you forgot