Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
I was a mere dry seed,
Did not give a heed,
I would grow to be a flower or a ****.
Buried underground,deep,
Fast asleep.
Fed with water and nutrients,
In quotient.
I woke up with a start,
I was beginning to sprout,
Into a young plant,
With leaves tender and pliant,
Welcome little one,
Called the Sun.
Lo behold!
Soon on the stem,I had rose buds,
The sepals held them tight,
Here was their plight,
To blossom, be plucked and taken,
Or stay on the stem and be forgotten.
One blossomed,
An angelic  sweet lady plucked it and held it to her bossom,
So great was her joy and mirth,
That all the buds blossomed forth,
Spring was in the air,
The butterflies hovered on them for their nectar.
You are my moon,
That pulls at my heart strings,
And like the tides ebb and flow,
You make my heart beat fast and slow.
Mrs Pamela Brown wife of  John Brown of Cafe Ting has passed away.
Burial Time: 8:45p.m 16/2/2019
No dear it should be R.I.P
You don't need any reasons to be nice.
You can be lonely in a crowd too,
Loneliness comes from being unable to communicate with others and express your feelings.
His lies are like tranquilizers,
They give instant relief,
But the side effects are unbearable and full of guilt.
I dived many times for your heart,
At last I got it,
But when I opened it,
It was empty,
Somebody had taken the pearl.
Next page