Her slender hand was full of pink blossoms, from the cherry tree.
Her pale skin was the color of foam upon the ocean waves.
Her face was full with the joys of flirtation, and of hope, and expectations.
The moon was gentile and the breeze was warm upon her skin.

If only it could always be then.

Her heart was uncontrolled, and beat fast, and loved.
And loved for no reason but love.
A tender kiss lay on her lips, given easily away. No reason to be afraid.
For trust was a long, long thread, and it was still unbroken.

If only it could always be then.

As she lay there on the hill, full of love, enough to spill.
She looked at the stars and yelled," I WILL NEVER BE AFRAID".
For I am youth and it was not wasted, No it was not wasted.
It had only just been tasted, love could never be a sin.

If only it could always be then.
And youth would never ever end.