I keep going back to 1989
Date of birth and all that was, sort of, fine
Summer breezes causing melancholia

Older, going back before magnolias
Enticing, encouraging, all for the bees to be
Before everything got stuck on a maybe

But maybe...

Maybe when I bloom, if I bloom
With pale flowers to match a midnight moon
A chain reaction could come my way

And will I see my night turn into a day
Where these words have gone with the fading black
Maybe when they have gone

I will come back