Love conquers, deceitful and slow,
With a soft amateurish refrain.
So strange to think – not long ago
You weren’t dejected and gray.
In the garden, at home, in the field,
Whenever she flashed her smile,
Wherever you were, you believed
You were free and out in the wild.
Once taken by her, you glowed
And you drank her poisons, content.
Because all the stars seemed to grow,
And fields had a different scent,