A short poem of a cheating girlfriend
Mud sloshed up his boots
And into his socks
He was drenched to the skin and soaking wet
His coat was pulled tightly over a parcel
This parcel was worth a lot
A lot to him
And a lot to her
He trudged up to her front door
Knocked once
Knocked twice
And knocked thrice
All was silent in the house
Then he heard a sound he wished he didn't
It was the sound of her
And him...
In rage and anger he threw the roses in the mud
And walked away
It continued to rain
And the two in the house continued as well
As the rain let off the man left
He got into his care and drove away
As the woman turned back to the house something caught her eye
It was the roses.
They were mud splattered
Ripped and torn
Yet they were still there
They were still roses
She ran to them and picked them up
Cradled them like a child
A card fell out and floated to the ground
She picked it up and it read
'To my Dearest,
I love you more than life itself
I will always be here for you'
She was stunned
She was shocked
All she would do was to stand there
Rain dripping off her
She saw the news that night
It was him
The man who had sent the roses
They pulled his care out of the river with no sign of him
Sleep evaded her that night
It would not come to her
She tossed and she turned
She even counted sheep
Nothing worked
All she could think of was him
He was sweet, kind, gentle and generous
She had betrayed him
She knew that she was going to pay
She flicked on the news again
It was him again
They found his body three miles downstream
It broke her
She ran
Crying down the street
And to the bridge
All that remained was a small wooden cross
She examined it closely
It was inscribed with something
It read
'To my Dearest,
Even after what you did.
I still love you.
And I always will'
Poetry by Steven Flood
Read 1042 times
Written on 2005-11-26 at 12:31
Tags Cheating Roses Death
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Roses
He trudged down dirt track in the rainMud sloshed up his boots
And into his socks
He was drenched to the skin and soaking wet
His coat was pulled tightly over a parcel
This parcel was worth a lot
A lot to him
And a lot to her
He trudged up to her front door
Knocked once
Knocked twice
And knocked thrice
All was silent in the house
Then he heard a sound he wished he didn't
It was the sound of her
And him...
In rage and anger he threw the roses in the mud
And walked away
It continued to rain
And the two in the house continued as well
As the rain let off the man left
He got into his care and drove away
As the woman turned back to the house something caught her eye
It was the roses.
They were mud splattered
Ripped and torn
Yet they were still there
They were still roses
She ran to them and picked them up
Cradled them like a child
A card fell out and floated to the ground
She picked it up and it read
'To my Dearest,
I love you more than life itself
I will always be here for you'
She was stunned
She was shocked
All she would do was to stand there
Rain dripping off her
She saw the news that night
It was him
The man who had sent the roses
They pulled his care out of the river with no sign of him
Sleep evaded her that night
It would not come to her
She tossed and she turned
She even counted sheep
Nothing worked
All she could think of was him
He was sweet, kind, gentle and generous
She had betrayed him
She knew that she was going to pay
She flicked on the news again
It was him again
They found his body three miles downstream
It broke her
She ran
Crying down the street
And to the bridge
All that remained was a small wooden cross
She examined it closely
It was inscribed with something
It read
'To my Dearest,
Even after what you did.
I still love you.
And I always will'
Poetry by Steven Flood
Read 1042 times
Written on 2005-11-26 at 12:31
Tags Cheating Roses Death
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text| Texts |
 by Steven Flood Latest textsUntitledMy Body Forgiveness Nothing to Loose Stones |
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