Saying it with the roses

There isn’t a higher life
There aren’t no little things
But for the real life, with
Beauty and joy in it;
Saying it with the roses
Or giving a make-up of champagne
Making its point
Through the infinite names; 

The silent mind, going back in time
The smile, cloudy and faint
To find a crow, in distance
Through the cracked window panes;
Follow me through, the wet and dark
For the reasons unknown and small
Hold with your body warmth
And never ever, leave again.