A flower, lonely stands,
Along the path I walk.
It waits, it waits.
It grows, it blooms.
It burgeons, it gives fruit.
It withers, it dies.
I never noticed,
Or maybe did not care;
It’s just another flower,
It’s just a flower.
But, it’s my flower...
And now its dead.
And I never got to know
Its scent.