Sunday, January 24, 2010


Lemons drop on the window still
Lemonade mixed with liquor
Theory is with time hearts heal
I would beg to differ

Strawberries on her face
Sugar on her lips
Feeling that she is faded
By the motion of her hips

Pomegranate in her iris
Taken for granite are her pupils
Peers gaze fascinated by a girl so dilapidated
And photographs never change but feelings do

Daisies grow from concrete
Sign of hope for the weak
But greatness seems to prevail
From those with pockets deep

Rose pedals and thorns
Pain with pleasure
Hearts beat
To a rhythmic measure

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