I brought to you a bouquet of the sun

Fresh plucked from fields and ripe with heaven’s praise;

You placed them in a vase and hummed a song,

Arranging blooms beneath a gentle gaze…

Then turned to me and beamed a radiant smile

That took me back to sun-drenched meadows fair,

From which I’d walked that happy, golden mile

‘Midst orchid scents and pink orpine-rich air.

I had no gifts to bring  but those few flowers;

Yet you received them as a treasure pure

And on your porch we lingered for an hour—

Light foolishness and airs of sweet allure.

Of all lost chances, one still haunts my soul…

That I lacked strength, your precious hand to hold.