Bud

Anywhere you go, I try to be there.
My love, my sweet, my everything.
It looks like a disaster, still denying it.

Buds are waiting to bloom, yes, anxious.
Not my garden, still. Not my place, never.

If i love or loved, has no importance now.
'Cause you'll never look, never care, never try.

It looks like a disaster, still denying it.
Still here, still waiting.
Bud it is, bud it remains, for now.

Pemberley Winter​