Wednesday, September 21, 2011

The Tragedy.

This is the story of the little stickboy,
Who met a heart, cute as a toy,
They danced under stars and baked in sunlight,
They twirled and swirled, oh my, what a sight,

The heart was of pearls, flowers and honeycombed words,
The heart told tales of wonderful love and glorious hurt,
The boy had a bejeweled box, a longing to be filled,
The boy was mesmerized and bittersweetly thrilled,

Then came the most uneventful winter day,
The heart was becoming dreary, bored and a little gray,
Longs for fireworks and paintings in the sky,
For trains, overnight buses and all things fly,

She left little stickboy, reposed, fast asleep,
Left him, faint and falling deep,
With magnificent stories and chocolate dreams,
Weightless and bursting in his tiny little seams,

At first light, he wakes to find,
A strange note that wasn't at all rosemary and thyme,
One ashen with pain and a dreadful flame,
One that punishes him for the love he so tries to tame,

Pop something goes and up he floats,
Over rolling plains and ancient moats,
Desolated with wear and tear,
He left his own little heart in his box so bare,
Once hopeful and decorated with love,
Beautiful it was, like Snow White's turtle dove,
Now pop it goes again and again,
Boy, Heart and all burst in sorrows, drenched in rain...

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