The Delicate Flower
See you there in air.
Your look seems always fair.
You see my stare.
You take in my glare in your eyes.
Maybe someday you may realize all that is at ease.
Not all life lives as a disease.
Even when it caves around us.
You shall prevail your war with fate and someday accept your mate.
Some think you a bore rather than the delicate flower that is you.
Living day to day on feelings of blue waiting for someone to peal the glue.
The past has treated you like meat when you are too sweet.
Somehow you always dress so neat when all these feelings arrive as a fleet.
Taken a dive to stay alive, should just have drive for the survive.
Some think you a bore rather then the delicate flower that is you.
Not sure where to turn.
Afraid you might get burned.
So you turn to me and see I not flee,
for all that is I,
is free,
you are too sweet to me.
I see the delicate flower is you and in some hour you will too.