He drove for miles to buy roses,
to be condensed in intrinsic form.
She was standing graciously by the doorway,
spiritless,inept and of the wrong age.
From time to time, alternate notes,
would swing by,
halting the changes of sky's hues
for the owls to investigate.
When all has been said and done,
there's still the hope of anticipation,
or did the flowers beat him off to sleep?
For miles and miles, the scent wanes,
competing against the air,
they never came.
Two moon appeared by the door,
She was still waiting,
as the words go.