Guest Author - Elizabeth Bissette

He sat down below a thorn,
fine flowers in the valley.
On an early April morn,
the green leaves they grow rarely.

He remembered her smile. Then he said,
fine flowers in the valley,
”You smile so. You’ll smile me dead.”
The green leaves they grow rarely.

”When you go through the valley,
I’ll be waiting for you there.
I will wait till there is no waiting.
The green leaves they grow rarely.”

They brought him back. She was gone,
fine flowers in the valley.
She could not stay long alone.
The green leaves they grow rarely.

When he walked through the valley,
he found her waiting for him there.
She waited until there was no waiting.
The green leaves they grow rarely.

She said, “I wanted you to be mine.”,
fine flowers in the valley;
”Only you, then you left me behind.”
The green leaves they grow rarely.

”I did not leave. I still can’t go”,
fine flowers in the valley.
“you were my light and you smile so.”
The green leaves they grow rarely.

One day he walked through the valley
and found her waiting for him there.
She had waited until there was no waiting.
The green leaves they grow rarely.