The Rose Of Innocence

As I wander through the field, I feel a longing deep inside.

I stand and stare into the sky. At what point did I die inside?

There was a time when I would lie in a field... a lot?

One by one a petal would fall, as I say the words, "she loves me? She loves me not?"

At what age that was I do not know.

It seems so long, so long ago.

I used to watch nature at play,

Now I don't have the time of day.

I felt so carefree, happy, reborn.

I'd smell the roses, despite the thorns.

That part of me now seems so hollow.

The taste of happiness is so hard to swallow.

If there was a tree or a mountain to climb,

I'd be there. It was so sublime.

I used to watch a butterfly in flight.

It'd flutter, and sputter, then go out of sight.

Now, it seems, things come and go.

If a butterfly flies by, I can't tell you so.

I work a lot now and don't "have time" for such things.

I can no longer look at the butterfly or its wings.

How does one outgrow?

The feelings you get at the first sign of snow.

It is the time of snowball fights and riding the sled.

At what point in my life did I suddenly get misled?

I've let life slip by me now without a glance.

I can only wonder if I'll get a second chance.

With pain-filled rage, I get a sense

That somebody came along and stole my innocence!

Standing in the field; so scared and alone,

With tears in my eyes, I let out a moan.

As tears fall, I know what I must do.

I lie in the grass, still wet with dew.

Closing my eyes, I reach for what I forgot.

The petals fall to the ground and I say, "She loves me? She loves me not?"

I realize now that it's not too late to feel reborn.

I smell the rose, I smile when I get pricked by the thorn.