i've seen the flowers of the grapefruit tree
bloom three times since you left me
i fear that you no longer would care
that they are white and pure and their scent fills the air
i've grown a great deal wiser since then
but you seem more naive than way back when
and i'm concerned that you can't find beauty any more
in all the simple things that you might endure
i know that eyes can glitter in the manner of the sea
in recognition of how strange it is to be
try to love the raw sound of a voice
and always find in beauty a sense of joy
