Every flower picked by hand
Presented to you by a silver stand
Feeling so deep and bright as gold
Have yet to ripen yet to fold

Needles can heal and medicine ****
A flip of a coin can be its seal
For better or worse for normal yet mad
A lad's fall is timid yet so sad

Like a sun so bright your eyes to him
And so enthralled by giving in
A promise made soon old became
For seven years labor are now to his name.