True Confession

Its not the same
Even as the wind blows in the same direction
Even as the swans dance with the same perfection
Even though I want to make a confession

The yellow daisy on the hill
Waiting to be plucked, to be handed out
The brown grass, the barren lands
Waiting for the rain, to have their fill

A storm's rising, in my forlorn heart
Can't keep it in any longer
Can you tell
Even if we are miles apart

Hear me out
True is my confession
Without a doubt
It ain't a momentary indiscretion

Climb up the brown hill
Meet me near the yellow daisy
And at twilight
We celebrate love's glory