• My Lotus,
    like all of these perfect blooms she grows
    beautiful and aromatic
    despite the mud that shows.

    On pain of death I protect this bloom.
    She is always there,
    her beauty to drive away my gloom.

    Tears of her past have given her strength to be
    true beauty that can only come from despair.
    The rain drips upon her petals so perfectly, a joy to see.

    She dawns the sun like a dress,
    I wear the shadow like a cloak.
    In the rain we meet, with a gentle caress
    Linking hands, on our words and smiles we do not choke.

    Away from her gaze the shadows raise.
    Away from my touch for her the light becomes too much.

    Pathetic really how we need
    one another in our arms.
    On my Lotus's love I do feed.
    Lost we feel without the others charms.

    This perfect bloom whom I do so miss,
    my Lotus perfect in her flaws,
    I hope very soon I may kiss.