There’s a song played in distance,

That’s faintly audible in the presence

Of traffic and crowd clamoring,

Failing to reach their ears,

But to me, only me;

Astonishing,

Bothering.

 

It gets louder,

My lips begin to sync

With the fast-paced lyrics,

As though I know the song,

As though I’ve sung it before,

To someone familiar;

I fear.

 

With every quick breath

That I sharply inhale,

Between the soaring music,

And the breathtaking lyrics,

I’m reminded of her,

Of a flower,

Lavender.

 

Dedicating a song

To someone, in happiness,

Can unceasingly backfire

In the moments of wretchedness,

And while it smells Lavandula,

It also singles you out,

Until you feel peninsula.