A flower beneath a forgotten tree sits back where I miss you.....
deep down inside where all love is true.
No lies grace those perfect skies,
symbols of the life past,
those times that would never last.
The ruffle of a summer dress,
a hand begging to caress,
the memory completed with an horizon of red,
no thought then of pain or dread.
Like a gift of spite wrapped in lace,
happiness was only on the surface.
I never meant to fool the world,
thoughts and feelings left deep in darkness, curled.
To myself I did lie,
I believed only what I saw with my eyes.
The feelings of the heart blinded by the lies.
So happiness was as a volcano asleep,
A beautiful mountain but treacherous down deep.
Waiting to blow,
waiting for the eyes of watchers to know.
The flower is gone,
the winds blows on,
The trees still sits,
though the memory it no longer fits.
The branches gnarled by being being left unkempt.
From it, all goodness was sent.