The First Flower of Spring

The first flower of spring still haunts my vision.

A solemn beauty standing alone pale and fare.

Dancing free in the breeze with restless passion.

I longed to stay with her, but I did not dare.

I cannot shake the feeling of painful loss.

I had no choice-too soon I left my flower.

The memory weighs my heart, my only cross.

I couldn’t linger. I did not have the power.

So I sit and dream of my flower today.

And of a time when I am with her beauty.

But not now, I cannot tarry, I cannot stay.

Against my heart, against my soul for duty.

Every day I live my life of work and toil.

Haunted by the beauty on faraway soil.