Poetry

Monday, 4 November 2019

Send me flowers

Send me flowers from her grave
You know I'm tired of being brave
I can hold no candles to a wave
Send me flowers from her grave

She has died but I can save
A piece alive I never gave
I'll tell you one thing I won't waive
Send me flowers from her grave

The world is lit in a special light
It comes where I sit these words to write
I could've hit I could have fight
But I keep it hid in myself tonight

The autumn rounds like a cannon ball
What goes up soon down must fall
And in its arc it forgets to call
The shallow shark of the swimming pool

So send me flowers from her grave
Promise me primrose salvage me sage
Pick me a bouquet of rosemary and thyme
And let me smell their scent divine

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