By Angie Dewberry jdewberr@usit.net
Date: 15 June 1997

Untitled

A beautiful shower of flowers 
were left for me one day.
I lifted them up, my eyes lit up,
I fell in love with how they lay.

The note said meet him in the park,
A fire will burn easily with your spark.

A single petal fell from the stem,
And my heart began to see.
Blurred from the tears and how I hurt,
Again he was doing it to me.

I wondered how something so 
beatiful was so scorn.
But then I realized that why I hurt
was because I was holding a thorn.