To Garden A Withered Bud
M
Mihaela Pirjol
0
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To reminisce upon our love of yore,
Is but to ache again, a little more:
I find it hard not to, in summer time,
When a bud unfurls in this heart of mine.
The self-same season of many years,
The self-same bud blossoms with tears;
Perfumes my heart with delicate scent again:
Just by reminiscing upon yesterday...
To garden the neglected bud of yore,
Is but to ache again, a little more;
It lies withered upon the grave of love:
What have we done to our hearts, my love?
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