Flower

Gifted with such subtle scent,

That waft with silent sentiment,

She reaches out from far away,

With synapses that flow and sway,

To find me as I sit alone,

Perplexed upon my mortal throne,

And fill my soul with little things,

Just as I know she always brings,

The little things that mean the most,

From such a most delightful host,

And all at once we drift apart,

Fulfilled in part, my aching heart.