Lost Child Poem by John Demon Jones

A pittance in the fountain grants the wish of the good hearted
A single bud of rose
Petals flurished, a deep blood crimson only seen if the moon were upon it
A mess of thorns among a mangled wound
Its result not closely matching such a profound deepness
Not in wound, not in blood
A perfect bud
A perfect gift to the one who gifted her with his presence
Worthy of such a love
She returns to him
Her eagerness stained by parched lips and teary eyes
Letting sadness well up within them and dropp upon the granite stone
On her knees she drops her rose
It tumbles to the soft dirt
Her eyes fall to his name
To his inscription upon her headstone
'Loving DJ, never to be forgotten'