Delicate as snow on a winter street;
Scatter, and I wish you travel wide,
And rest upon thorns by your side,
'Cause with them will you be truly appreciated;
For who will you more strongly desire,
Than the one whose conditions are dire.
Scatter, and I hope you rest to peace,
Within yourself and bring the same apiece,
'Cause that's why you exist to be, but no that's no end;
For you will have to bloom again,
And bring sunshine for those in the rain.
Scatter, and may you forever fly,
With new wings that will soon come by,
'Cause you will be a flower again;
For you will have petals of your own,
To carry the fragrance I wished upon.
Die when I may, I want it said of me by those who knew me best that I always plucked a thistle and planted a flower where I thought a flower would grow - Abraham Lincoln
