Missing the smell of her flowers,
You waste away the hours.
Locked up in a tower,
Your mind has all the power.
And if you so choose to sit in the gloom,
Minding the impending doom,
Sweeping her problems like a broom,
Time might seem to zoom.
She might seem to be in love
And push will come to shove.
You look up above
And finally, know what they write of.
You love her so
And every time you watch her go,
Your heart jumps to and fro
And takes a humongous blow.
Loving her like a druggy loves meth.
And every time you take a breath,
You love her even more to death.
Oh, how you love the one they call Beth.
