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.
Dec 7, 2015
Dec 7, 2015 at 4:21 PM UTC
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.
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