Petal Plucker
She whispers, “He loves me; he loves me not,”
as she plucks the dewy petals off a daisy.
She thinks of the misery that loving him has brought.
Oh, but his sweet kisses. They melt her and make her crazy!
As she plucks the dewy petals off a daisy,
she thinks of a few bad times; he gave her bruises then.
Oh, but his sweet kisses. They melt her and drive her crazy!
He always brings her flowers, vowing not to sadden her again.
She thinks of a few bad times; he gave her bruises then
although there have been such good times she also can recall!
He always brings her flowers, vowing not to sadden her again.
Two petals remain; one by one each dewy petal shall fall.
Although there have been such good times she also can recall,
she thinks of the misery that loving him has brought.
Two petals remain; one by one each dewy petal shall fall.
She whispers, “He loves me . . . he loves me NOT.”
Nov. 2020
For Brian Strand's 'COMPLETELY YOUR CHOICE(46) any theme any form' Poetry Contest
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2020
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