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Black peddle rose

January 5, 2010
By Anonymous

I sit near the window waiting for him to arrive. He’ll be in his green & brown uniform he wore proudly with his gun. Oh that uniform all splattered with red. His family all lined up, their heads filled with dread. On the stairs of his home, sit a child that he had barley known. Within her hands she holds a black peddle rose.

© Anonymous

The author's comments:
Well when I wrote this poem I was just bored I stared to write. The next thing i know I have a poem in front of me. I was feeling kind of sad that day and i just put it into words... no this did not happen to me but i know some people who it did happen to. So this is for them.
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