Tuesday, April 13, 2010


posted by Jenna Howard

I’ve been told not to like it.
I’ve heard that it is bad.
But all I see are balls of sunshine
Cheerful flower makes me glad.

You think this is the end
Of the joy it brings.
But it turns into fluffy clouds
And my heart simply sings.

It still hides a secret
Revealed with a puff.
Tiny dancers float away
Peaceful, happy stuff.

But then comes horror
Liquid death in a spray.
Now the weed is withered
At least the dream can stay.

1 comment:

Greater Fort Worth Writers said...

What a neat little poem. Thanks for posting.

Link Within

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...