Garden Pick

What was done to such a soft breeze

She lit a fire out of all that would freeze

No one understood so many ways to cry

I cut a path straight to see that fire in her eye

I don’t think that she could turn around

But she could pull a garden out of a rose

Her tears were left to nurture the ground

I can’t sense her beauty with my nose

She should of held on

But now she is gone

I can never pass the holy rose

Sometimes only she knows

She may of been at fault who really knows

More alive now that her death only shows

Waged a war out of the calmness of peace

No strings attached she still had no release

Turning back I hollowed out her ways

She used to take the clouds out of the sun

I looked back at her better week of days

Realized quickly her devil wasn’t done

She should of held on

But now she is gone

I can never pass the holy rose

Sometimes only she knows

I wish I walked in her garden to find a rose

Trade it all away for the life she should of chose

Never look back now I turn wine back to water

Without her alive makes this choice a lot harder