Would leave a few poems as buds,

Would leave a few poems mine
As buds in your sky to shine,
And with your flower basket
You would there arrive, sacred,
To pick them up, one by one,
And you would then put them there,
Singing a song perhaps to fill the air,
Which song would you then sing,
I have that sense preordained, I think,

Your song would be full of Love,
Which could only be borne by wings of dove,

And hearing your songs so blissful,
My poems from buds would bloom colorful.

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