Flowers
-Sky SummerIf flowers would run dry,
Wither to fall blue:
Others make fun to scare,
Saying no bee would flew,
To come and love;
Without knowing how pure,
She was made and wither.
Flowers
Flowers
-Sky SummerIf flowers would run dry,
Wither to fall blue:
Others make fun to scare,
Saying no bee would flew,
To come and love;
Without knowing how pure,
She was made and wither.