PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

They once threw flowers at her feet,

where secrets played discrete.

She'd made the part; their orchid heart,

all down the love-in street.



Her lines quite bright, and in the flow,

she'd link with those she'd know.

They once threw flowers at her feet...

no longer shall they throw.



They once blew kisses at her face.

She wore the hard lust lace.

The bolder tongues, they seeked a taste,

of rose upon her face.

So full of fragrant scents devine,

and much that churned inside.

They once blew kisses at her face,

their soul of tulip pride.



Prescribed her death, the doctor did;

hard hits of parkway guilt.

That Hill Crest lass was just a kid,

the day she first caught Wilt.

So ripe for action, long and fast,

the toxics only grew.

In bondage nothing comes to last,

just leaves you violet blue.



They once threw flowers at her feet.

when drawn out lines were true.

I passed her grave the other day...

one final one I threw.