I write about the boy I lost

From a time so long ago.

I write about love's deadly cost

And how we've sunk so low.

I write about a flower field

And beautiful days of sun,

Expecting to tend the harvest yield

And dreaming of days to come.

I write about the sea

And how it erodes the rock:

How you were the sea and the rock was me

And how I was reeling from the shock.

I write about the pain,

And what it does to the human heart;

How cleansing, like a summer rain,

Forgiveness is a start.

I write about the desert flower,

Growing against all odds:

How before the sun it does not cower,

And though blown by the mighty winds, barely nods.

But mostly, I write about the brilliance and strength

Found within the human heart:

How tired it may seem at length

Before exploding into impeccable art.