The color you adored,

Violas I pluck for you, sweet,

From the woods, beneath the stone,

Life and hope and love and you, embedded on it,

Violas I pluck for you, sweet,

Indelible memories, afloat the shores of my mind,

With tears that have dampened the wafting wind,

As I see your face, vividly engraved on the petals, of it,

Violas I pluck for you, sweet,

Mangled love lies on the bed I sleep,

Unable I am to cede, is my doleful weep,

As your smile, enlighten the petals of it,

Violas I pluck for you, sweet,

Last monsoon, on your hair they were blue,

Strange, this year, sanguine they have grew,

Sanguine, for they grew, without you,

It is strange, they should be blue.

From the woods, beneath the stone,

The color you adored,

Violas I send for you, sweetest, from far forgetting land,

With faith, you’ll understand.

viola-huntercombe-purple-flower1

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