The Gift of Flowers

She asks me to wear flowers again,
though she is soon to fade away.
She stands among the bright butterflies,
their shapes blurred by the tears in my eyes.

She is soon to fade away,
like too many others have,
their shapes blurred by the tears in my eyes;
I can't seem to think of them without that blurring.

Like too many others have,
I've seen the wilting of bright flowers.
I can't seem to think of it without that blurring
that steals into my heart and weighs it down.

I've seen the wilting of bright flowers,
the way the color leaves them; they are the hopeless husks
that steal into my heart and weigh it down.
I cannot stand to see it anymore.

The way the color leaves them, they are the hopeless husks
of deer whose hearts were once so dear to mine:
I cannot stand to see it anymore!
My heart turns bitter against such loss.

a deer whose heart was once so dear to mine,
She comes to bring me one last joy.
My heart turns bitter against such loss,
and she sees this, with blind eyes.

She comes to bring me one last joy,
To try and take the edge off of my sorrow;
She sees it, with blind eyes,
and she asks me not to despair.

Trying and take the edge off of my sorrow,
she stands among the bright butterflies.
She asks me not to despair.
She asks me to wear flowers again.