Forget-me-not Is Still My Favourite Flower
Clouds pass by in the background
your hand slips right out of mine
somebody’s fingers are dancing
on the grand piano.
This time my memory fades into darkness
that moment’s erased from my mind
our bodies just silhouettes standing
alone under a streetlight.
I will forget what you told me,
surely next month or next week,
when, walking through a garden of roses
I’ll see something blue through the leaves.
Their miniature heads softly nodding,
their arms stretching out to the sun.
I’ll search in their light-blue redemption
for the thing that my heart used to shun.
I will cry and not know what these tears mean,
I will try to think of your face,
but I’ve given out all I could handle
to you, and dragging my grace
by her hair, I have stood so affected
by your kindness and the warmth of your hands
I have given you all I could handle,
I have given you what I loved best.
I wonder if you’ve kept my letter…
if not, I won’t take it to heart.
I have given my best to forget that
I have asked of you such a hard task.
Now that so many years have run past us,
and my gesture seems so miniature.
I just want you to know that my favourite flower
will always put my hands back in yours.
