Shot down in its prime.
Shot down
While making daisy chains in the park
For little girls to be daisy queens.
...
Breakfast was torture
Without you.
The kettle refused to boil,
The toaster burnt the bread
...
This is no
Sweet “carried off by angels”
At the age of 90
Kind of death.
...
Knock, knock
On the window.
Two fat raindrops
Calling me out.
...
I love
Lindt hot chocolate on a winter’s day,
Fresh fruit salad in the month of May,
Summer strolls with the smell of hay,
...
I have a wooden box
Under my bed.
It’s hand crafted and carved
And inlaid with gold
...
Give me a man
Who wants the moon
But demands nothing.
...
I woke this morning to find
An old man in my bed.
Short grey halo
Surrounding his bald head,
...
They pity her
All alone
In the corner
Of the restaurant
...
I don’t mind that
You took my books
And CDs
Or even my new set of kitchen knives
...