My date of birth has marked and passed
Like the gust of wind leaving feathery kisses
I have yet to find teenage romance that lasts
During the season of spring in my youth
I sometimes wonder if I need to wait my life out,
And allow myself to blossom beautifully as I grow older
While I withered away ever so quietly in my prime
Waiting for someone to remove the thorns from my roses.
But as the days passing by my November blues, I've realized,
Even primroses patiently wait for their springtime to bloom
My time has yet to come to let the world greet me with love
For now I wait until I'm wiser before I find the right one sent from above