He was like the sun
Beating down on her;
First, he lit her world,
Then he left her with a burn.
© 2015
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Fragments
Poetry"Tomorrow's not promised. It may not arrive. So why do we waste The days we are alive?" A collection of poems and songs. #81 in Poetry | April 28, 2015 © 2015
Sunburn
He was like the sun
Beating down on her;
First, he lit her world,
Then he left her with a burn.
© 2015
