It\'s the thoughts when I pick flowers; it\'s the tune in my head.
It\'s the breeze that passes over,
and the sun that sets.
It\'s a bee on a flower,
and the thunder that booms,
then the lightning that strikes,
and the thoughts of you.
The memories I will think of,
the memories I will wish to make.
It\'s the yearning for tomorrow
to have another day.
It\'s the feeling of living free,
and the colors that flash on your face.
It\'s the beauty I see
and the words I can\'t say.
It\'s the laugh I die to hear,
and the smile I try to make.
You are the person who gets me up,
the person who gives me peace.
Your eyes are beautifully painted pictures
that contain stories.
You hold my hand when I\'m shaken away.
You\'re a soul I\'m so thankful to have,
and a person I can\'t bear to be without.
You hold light in your hands and joy in your voice.
You are a rose with thorns of might.
You are my heart,
and without you, it cannot beat.
So if you die,
it will be as though I\'ve followed you six feet.
And flowers will cover our names
that have been chiseled in stone.
And in a vase,
forget-me-nots will be found.