Thanks Leonorra Dainler
The firecrackers was back, our hero was sick,
Of wars and virtues, damned and thick.
This wanted to bloom, she did as a wick,
Yet, now she finds the road narrow,
The hero’s wick is cold as sleep.
Where to tomorrow, No wind can stick,
What is there to borrow, her smile is left at that firecracker’s stick?
Thanks John Sheils for the tag. The pressure is on now ….
As she will bloom,
so will she become.
The girl interrupted