Golden-haired beauty, taken too soon
The symbol of our innocence
Vulnerable and fallible
Not much different from the rest of us
She cared, about those
Less privileged, the poor, the sick
The maimed
Always uncomfortable
In the regal house of
Posturing Kings and Queens
Lords and Ladies, who
Held their chins upright
Their lips too stiff to say
"I love you."
She's gone now
A mountain of
Flowers
To speak those words
For all of us, the millions—
Who never had the chance.
YOU ARE READING
Book of Poems
PoetryThis collection of poems invites you to explore the intimate corners of emotion, the quiet whispers of the soul, and the vibrant hues of imagination. Each poem is a reflection of life's myriad experiences, capturing moments of joy, sorrow, love, and...
