(And they will say,
You are a stalk without a flower)

A Spring without Easter,
Where eggs are never cracked
And the rabbits stay buried
In overgrown mounds, perhaps
The green grass forgot to wake up?

(And they will say,
You are a candle without a wick)

A crowded room unlit,
Where mirth is spread
But smiles can’t be seen,
Where joy is masked
And yet, is it not bliss?

(And they will say,
You are a river without a mouth)

Dry words converge only in lies,
Stories are poured
And ears **** in the vapour
That fills the damp world,
But do I not see tears?