Forget me not, forget me not.
Dear, this is all I ask.
I couldn't help but fell for your garden
with its beauty and expanse of green.
I'm sorry I planted my feelings under your shade.
I tried to suppress it, but it wouldn't fade.
Forget me not, forget me not.
Dear, this is all I ask.
But it is for roses that your garden longs,
like how a musician longs for his songs.
I'm just a Forget-me-not, a rose I could never be.
You didn't have a choice but to uproot me.
But please, forget me not, forget me not,
this is all I will ever ask.
YOU ARE READING
Green Meadows
PoetryLife is a green meadow where green grasses grow. Some are tall bushes; some are just short weeds. No matter the length, no matter the size. Each one has a story; each one has roots. All are rooted to the humble earth, and all are under the radiant s...
