She always loved where the lilies grew
She loved their enchanting fragrance.
The field was like being in the clouds of the sky so blue
The field was where she would happily dance.
The lilies were the source of sheer bliss
Every time she left, the field she missed.
Knowing her infatuation for the lilies, a boy plucked one for her
She took it ecstatically and assumed he was forever.
As the two fell, so did the life of the lily in its vase.
Unexpectedly, the boy left, requesting his own space
Now alone, the girl stared at the dead lily and the memories flowed.
Day by day, the petals of the lily had withered and bowed
The flower and moments with the boy had died.
And all that was left were the memories of the field where the lilies grew
And a dead one stripped from the blissful field.
Its fragrance was gone
Its blackened color like the dirt on the ground
It would not be in the field where she danced
It held no bliss, only memories of a boy she wouldn’t miss.
A new boy entered her life with empty hands.
He merely extended one out to her, leaving her with hesitation to trust another boy’s plans.
But she took it.
Hand in Hand, he took her to the field where the lilies forever grew