Once upon a summer's journey I found,
Quite by chance, a beautiful blossom rare.
My tongue was quite possessed, totally bound,
When my discovery, I tried to share.
Hidden in silence did I keep the truth,
Never again to see the light of day.
So egregious are the errors of youth.
The blossom burned bright, but withered away.
When it has important meaning for thee,
Let not thine fear keep thee from speaking true.
Alas I lost my poor beloved blossom,
But there mayest be some time left for thee.
Let not the regret in years to thee come.
Speak thine truth and thou shalt in time be free.
About the Creator
Dee Meinville
"If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more."- Mr. Knightley, Austen's Emma
Struggling med student, tortured soul (what poetess isn't), devoutly Catholic. I write to express what goes unsaid and to stand for the voiceless.
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Doing it for the troops
The others dropped like flies around me. We fought and struggled to get to this point. I'm the only one left now. The objective is right there. A mere two hundred feet away. The last of my team got a bullet to the head right next to me, but I couldn't do anything. I was able to locate and neutralise the sniper as he shot my friend, so his death was at least not in vain.
By Mohammed Darasi6 days ago in Fiction
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