My flower seems to grow by day
And by day the sick melts away
In the orchard where she grows
She perks in the love that flows
But storm clouds billow from afar
Like the milksop engine of a car
She wishes to bloom and stretch
To stray strokes of sunlight to fetch
Still she nurses threads of doubt
That tangle, fray, and wind about
Her fragile roots inside the ground
And snuff out every flame found
She fears the lightening may
Strike her petals someday
And take her love away
Nothing to remain.
