- Non-Erotic Poetry
- My Flower, My Sin
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I stopped by the greenhouse, for my garden last week,
For the sweetest of fragrances, a flower I seek.
The one I chose, I couldn't pass by,
It needed much love, or else it would die.
I planted it's beauty with tender, with care,
And it opened it's peddles, so gentle and fair.
But on the horizon, there trouble did brew,
A storm rolled in, and darker it grew.
The rain found purchase, on peddles so pure,
Strong were the winds, she couldn't endure.
When I awoke, at first light of dawn,
Ripped from her place, my flower was gone.
She was too young, for planting this way,
Her roots couldn't hold her beauty to stay.
I'm sorry my Flower, for leaving you battered,
For distance and time, the winds left us scattered
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