One puts a rose on the grave that was
Waiting for the footsteps on the grass.
The sound of the muffled wind was too loud,
For he won't talk again from his resting ground.
She let her hair fall in waves when she sat
He liked it that way, it drove him mad.
And when the wind blew it in every way,
She could not help when the memories played.
Tears flowed, so did a smile,
When she remembered his, dimpled like a child's.
Then she said fiddling with her ring,
"How are you my dear brave King?"
"The bullets stopped flying, we are at peace."
With that she gave his ground a kiss.
To her man who died for the bigger crowd.
Tears flowed again, with sheer proud.
YOU ARE READING
Stupidoscope ✓
PoetryStupidoscope is a collection of my weirdly stupid poems. They are written with no thoughts whatsoever. If you still like them. Let me know. And if you don't then please please definitely let me know.
