You're my ideal of love
you satisfy my inner needs of effect
the driving force behind my change.
The last added flower that makes the bouquet
catch the eye of a stranger passing by
taking it home to see the effect of beauty
in the place where he lives.
Tears have escaped and journied down
the plains of my long face more times
than sand gets lapped by the waves.
The ground gives way and I fall
to new depths of a familiar pain.
Your selfish push turns our love to a flaming bush
the ensuing heat burning our faith
and leaving us black with pain and brittle of trust.
Your love feels like a misty foggy morning
that promises the sun, it's shiney day.
The coldness of a hard unceasing wind
that will freeze your skin yet
blow a searching seed into the fertile ground it needs.
The pain you must feel to learn a valuable lesson
the wrong roads you must take to find
a different but better destination.
You cast my fears at me
making me not see the beauty of the waterway,
just the cold pelting rain that made it be.
I cannot be glad of your redirecting a lost river
for in the turn, the path that our love dug
with passionate plunging and gentle ripples of soft foamy words
has had it's borders staked sharply
and it's flow cut down from the rivers never ending thirst.
I watch now from a field far away
thats covered in flowers all wanting a bouquet of their own.
But none fit the one I have in my hand
the special bloom that I watched open in my shine.
The only key that found the locks inside my mind
I wait, looking past the new buds full of colour
hoping for the rivers turn to be complete.
Bouquet in my hand, the river lapping at my feet.
