It was a pretty flower,
That I met on a sunny day,
The day after the thunderstorm,
When the angry clouds were grey,
I stopped by that sunny day,
To watch a flower on a lonely way,

The flower then touched my life,
In many of her little ways,
In this evil world of strife,
Made me look and stop and stay,
And then the flower blew away,
Leaving there no words to say,

I had met the flower again,
When she went home to the trees,
She entered in my thorny life,
Led me in to feast in peace,
And when I see the flower cry,
My heart will not ask why,