Look at how buttercups dance on his grave,

They're blown by a calm breeze--kissed by the sun.

They are as free as my Indian brave,

Before bullets came from another's gun.

We were to marry, Lone Arrow and I,

My wedding beads lay in a special place.

More time has to pass before I don't cry,

When I close my eyes I still see his face.

Lone Arrow taught me--know right from wrong,

I now understand the whole--not the part.

For my life, like my name, sings a sad song--

As a child I've been known as Wounded Heart.

One day I'll join him, in spirit we'll be,

Just like the buttercups--happy and free.