Atop a grassy knoll, the wind blew fast.

It tore the flowers from their stems and leaves

and then bounced them away. They quickly passed

like memories of you, and my heart grieved

for you no longer braced me 'gainst the wind.

A loneliness, familiar in its shroud

Engulfed my swaying form, and then I grinned.

Your indecision should have made me proud

for thou wast (as I knew it, all along)

too perfect for my humble love to earn.

So when you left, it felt not right nor wrong,

but like a hole; twas singed there by a burn.

The wind hast blown, and with it all my care;

my love no longer burns or brings despair.