Millard Lowe Poet Sonnet

For Another Budding Child Flower

For Another Budding Child Flower

Alone in the dark uterus of my bedroom
here I lie curled up in the thoughts 
and emotions of  the day.

Another budding flower
was plucked from the garden street
leaving its red sap as a jaded memento 
to stained innocence and hoodwinked justice.

Another aborted life spiraled away
as echoes of fading out cries floated
wearily on the reefs of passing time
covering awareness of another heinous crime
whose guilt will soon vanish from human notice.

Now with my cervical poised head on tear soaked pillow
I pray God that another flower be not plucked away tomorrow.

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