When knees and heads went down,
All they asked Him was for their own
Even in faith, the pair was downtrodden
And phew! Yahweh shifted the burden.
On the rising sun’s back was Melody
And all the hurt was now buried in rhapsody
If she were a flower, call her a primrose
Say it was springtime, if writing modern prose.
A quiet April morning hath come!
Her cry was full of life,
Everyone loved her,
Her own existence was highlife,
They were all over her,
She was flourishing at nine,
Full of smiles and fine lines.
Her dream to touch the skyline
Drifted her parents to cloud nine.
Little Melody was in chase of that dream,
In a classroom figuring what future she’ll bring,
When bullets shifted her dream to a scream,
And all that crumbled; a snatch of Spring.
Add a Comment