Among the harvest of my thoughts, I find myself daydreaming of a Lady Flower whom I have not yet met.
The light gleaming from her eyes, even though hidden within night's darkness and fantasies, still gives beauty to my dreams.
Every heart is shackled by self-pity at times, but only the lonely know the difference between sympathetic sorrow and lonesome tears.
Tenderly, my heart remains devoted to her, for in the nakedness of the wind, I can taste her sweet, feminine scent through the poems I write on this lonely park bench.
Every time she gracefully walks upon lifeless grass, her sultry image gives beauty to it under a sunlight blessing beautiful flowers like herself.
Daydreaming about this lovely woman helps restore the voice of passion I once lost inside the grave of a broken heart.
Today, I cling to the liberty of her enchanting spirit for happiness and in the essence of my daydreams, I imagine reaching for her lips to taste what sweet love really means.