The aging blind man at the florist's
Recalls his vision, his statue'd youth

Here, the sensation of scent
Is a meadow of heartache
When days were alive as a bouquet
Nostalgic now to go / see his love.

Alas when sight was fragrant...

He carries lilies out the door
Old and blind
A man holding memories
Of bright befores...

Alas when sight was fragrant.