Walking alone in the moonlight, the stars high and crisp in the winter’s night, the full moon floating like his heart.
Looking across the golf course the day’s snow fresh with a crown of ice from the evenings cold, sparkling.
There along the side of the path was a bouquet.
The flowers fresh, and pale blue, and yellow and red
Blushed with the breath of hope, dreams just as they were born
In lovers hearts.
A bouquet of flowers, lying beside a bench half under a winter bare bush, itself covered with fresh snow.
He picked them up, and slipped them under his arm,
And continued on his way.
Ah Nashville on a cold winter’s night did have its magic.