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Poetry: Bitter Poetry
The spring flower
by Steven Shell

It was during that first hour,we began like the first spring flower.A seed from above,spread by a lonely dove.The fresh light smell of spring in the air,a small bee buzzing round her hair.Ah,soon will come a shower,to water that first spring flower.Our love began then,me over all other men.The glory, the glee,indeed she chose me.The sun shines down,may our love never frown.A new start,love connects our hearts.Ah,it seems passed an hour,that we shared the first spring flower.

 
 
 
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