The woman selling violets speaks as you walk by;
"A bouquet for the lady," is her familiar cry.
She knows no other life than the one that you all see…
Or so you like to think, and so you sip your tea.
You passed her—didn't glance—never saw her smile;
But if you had, you might have stayed to talk with her a while.
Her life is in her face, but her love is in her eyes.
She knows just what must be.
You put on her disguise.
Her secrets are her songs . . . . . . . . . . She's found an answer
Her songs are her dreams . . . . . . . . . . While you ask, "Why?"
Her dreams are her visions . . . . . . . . . . She's found an answer
Of secrets living free . . . . . . . . . . To truly satisfy
She goes her way without a glance;
t live a lie that won't let her mind dance.
The flower lady's wise and she will never go
To places without heart that will not let her grow.
Her secrets are her songs . . . . . . . . . . She's found an answer
Her songs are her dreams . . . . . . . . . . While you ask, "Why?"
Her dreams are her visions . . . . . . . . . . She's found an answer
Of secrets living free . . . . . . . . . . To truly satisfy
Secret songs, secret dreams;
The flower lady is not what she seems.
Created: Sunday, 19 October 1997, 8:00pm
Last Updated: Sunday, 19 October 1997, 8:00pm
Page Contents © 1997 by: Gael MacGregor (UNLESS OTHERWISE NOTED)
THIS PAGE was Sorta CREATED WITH:
HTML Writer by Kris Nosack *and* used information, tips & silliness in:
The Complete Idiot's Guide to Creating an HTML Web Page (Second Edition)
