Tracing white daisies with my fingers on the
blue-green wall, I sigh.
I'm looking for a boy with a wilted rose in his left hand...
Have you seen him?
He has sandy hair and glass green eyes with a
hidden thrid that can see the future.
Last time we talked he told me I would fall for him.
The second month passed by so fast,
The first month I thought would never end.
((sometimes it's easier to work backwards))
I think I may have seen you on the way to moving on.
You look familiar, but different.
No matters, anyway.
I'm the little girl with the whispering willow tree.
And under the full moon I will whisper to you what the
willow whispered to me tonight:
"Tell me, dear boy. Don't you miss it?"