Love is a flower
That grows from a seed,
Nurtured by need
Then killed by greed.

The color is red
From the blood that is shed.
On love it once fed,
Yet soon to be dead.

We were a flower, you and I,
Waiting for our love to die.
For the bud in full bloom
Was surrounded by gloom.

Our petals have fallen
To lie on the ground--
A pale reflection
Of our intense affection.

The stem that was mine
Now withers on the vine;
Turning brown and dried,
In pain it has died.

Now, like the flower that is no more
And as my life has gone before,
I seek to let my spirits soar--
In hopes that death is not merely...

The End