A flower bud in morning's hope,
Grown under shade of fir,
With greenish stem as thick as rope
When plucked has drop one tear
The flower's beauty whithered
The torn branch cut your fingers
Avanging pain still lingers
Fair petals slithered
You try to smell it anyway
But perfume vanished
Its shining white has turn to gray
Your joy's now tarnished
"I won't bloom for one day,
In death then wade,
For you to have your way
And me - a shade
"I was so young and free!
You took my day and night
You call it love for me..
You have no right!"In windish breath,
With strength now spent,
This vow it made
Of will unbent
