Cornflower Blue

Love, here a bluebird with florets fanned a cornflower I now place in your hand has on a dove's undercarriage, on-wing has on-colour; I shall no longer sing. My heart love is yours; it always has been, since the weeds of the cornfield gently green through amber and gold, then white and yellow wearing mine blue to be your playfellow a bluebird - it's a bachelor's Button rubbing shoulder blades with elves or globin mimicking tears, never satisfying I guess something needn't needs no certifying. My heart love is yours; it always-has-been I'm akin to those rose-pink hues of your skin.