Turns out freedom aint nothing but missing you,
Wishing that I realized what I had when you were mine.
I’d go back to December turn around and make it alright.
I’d go back to December turn around and change my own mind.
I go back to December all the time.
From her hand fell a single feather
Decorated by the colors
Of dawn. Within the garden
There was a path so elegant
Along which there was a majestic
Peacock. Its bouquet
Of teal, green, and orange. A bouquet
Of glaring eye feathers
Bringing out the colors
Of her eyes as she sits in the garden
In her most elegant
Of dresses as she watches the majestic
Reflection of the shadows from the majestic
Sky. Her curls tied in a bouquet
With the ribbon of a feather.
Not favoring her favorite color,
She waters all roses in the garden
With graceful elegance.
She strolls with an elegance
That can only be compared to a majestic
Promenade of a bride with her bouquet.
The flyaways of her hair seemed like a feather,
So blond the strands lacked any color
A lily she picked from the garden
She placed in her hair. The garden
Gave off an elegance
That complimented her majestic
Beauty. She reaches for the bouquet
With her fingers that are as smooth as a feather.
Her skin a light bronze color,
That looked a darker color,
Against the ruby she found in her garden.
A circled jewel cut in an elegant
Shape lined with a majestic
Assortment of diamonds wrapped in a bouquet
Around her Peacock feathers.
No lack of color, just majestic
Beauty as the garden reflects the bouquet
Of her elegance through Peacock feathers.
You don’t know what you have until it’s
gone, but let’s be real, were you ever really mine?