RejectionStanding wistfullyunder the black moon of night,the low drone of melancholy wedding bellsdisperses throughout my head, asthe warm breeze carries my limp body along,the sickening smell of love permeating thesummer air.The fair maiden I once caressedfills my heard with a cold passion.Her sharp ring pierces the casewhich rests uncomfortably in my outstretched hand.As I kick the damp grass below my feet, I mumble to myself in a low voice,"ANo' ... she said Ano' ... "Birds didn't sing andbells didn't ring till many years after that night.What did I know then,what did I know of love's dark and awful pains?by Michael Lowry, Destrehan, LA