There’s a day: it’s filled with roses.
There’s a day of hopeful bliss.
There’s a day for pure romances, there’s a day for broken hearts.
Will the broken hearts be mended?
Will the flowers wither soon?
Will a romance grow and prosper?
Will that bliss be crushed through life?
Are the hopeful days soon ended?
Or can tenderness endure?
Who can fault a secret longing that may never find relief?
Who can mend a weakened heartbeat?
Who will live to find succour?
Is it time to call the fools out?
Let them celebrate the dream.
This I know, each hope rekindles, when the year has turned again.
© HMH, 2019
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