I Lost My Friend in the Rain
I lost my friend under the rain.
She and I use to run long distances
when we were young.
We spoke of sweethearts and dreams,
sports and basketball.
We shared french fries,
Dr. Pepper and coke floats.
She held the record for the broad jump
in school. I played basketball,
I was a forward.
There were always tomorrows,
until I lost my friend in the rain.
She let go one day
leaning outside against her car in the rain,
it was suicide…
Copyrighted: February 2018 CMM
Keats spoke of a rose and how it would not wilt.
This rose came only once and was not made of silk.
PIcked among a garden this one unique rose,
taken from the thorns, this flower she chose.
Sat upon his desk, and nurtured from the stems,
drenched in water, cut in a vase, and looking back at him.
He called the rose loveliest of any in his fences,
this rose compared to others, they had no defenses.
However the secret of this rose was not from one attending.
The secret of its beauty was truly from its sending.
This rose he said was more because a friend gave way,
now the beauty of the perfect rose was given to him today.
Swelling powdered scents flowed in the house and settled,
crimson velvet sculptured rose, green stem among the petals.
Beauty in its temporal form in nature’s moment bloomed,
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