Friday, July 1, 2011


Her petals so rare;
With beauty her care
Of radiance so blinding
Can halt a man to a stopping.

May the silhouette of stem and thorns
Reflect her life of scars and scorns.
Her soul so deep;
Innocence and love steep
Selfless and giving
No hatred for those living

Fragile and pure
Makes him secure
Her beauty belongs to he,
Who loves her best
Than the pack of rest.

A sight extraordinary as she
Men of world traveled to see.
Out of range far of ability
Robbed him of his sanity.

His greed to preserve her presence
Plucked her petals from present tense
Stripped of life,
Her stem cut by a knife

Her body lays in box of glass
Wilted, rotting and still as
Her life no more shall pass.
Sent via BlackBerry from T-Mobile

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