She was the flower in a world of vines

She was the flower in a world of vines.

As we, blinded

with upturned eyes,

missed her for the gold dipped sky.

She was the distinct on a trellis of green.

As you,

the workaholic machine

thought more of Fortune Magazine.

"That's the beauty of this dream,"

and tucked your soul back in to sleep.

"That's the beauty of this dream;

I can make myself anything."

She was the flower in a world of vines.

As I,

the day break parasite,

lost myself when I lost the light,

and couldn't find her when it set to night.

She was the flower in a world of vines.

Contentment's constancy her spine.

"For Christ's sake, I just need some time.

Can't you see?

I'm blooming."