| A poem I wrote about Her |
| A poem I wrote about Her |
SCREENSHOT01

Red RosesRed RosesRed Roses
Red roses were her favorites, her name was also Rose. And every year her husband sent them, tied with pretty bows. The year he died, the roses were delivered to her door. The card said, "Be my Valentine," like all the years before. Each year he sent her roses, and the note would always say, "I love you even more this year, than last year on this day. My love for you will always grow, with every passing year." She knew this was the last time the roses would appear. She thought, he ordered roses in advance before this day. Her loving husband did not know, that he would


When I dreamed I was asleepWhen I dreamed I was asleepWhen I dreamed I was asleep
I woke up with a sudden start, and took a look around. My Dream had frightend me so bad I dared not make a sound. I crept up from my bed, and tiptoed to the door... I fealt an ice cold flame inside, and passed out on the floor. I dreamt of what I saw out there: the blood red Gate of Hell. I knew that if I turned my back I might as well have fell. My wife was a sunbeam, and my daughter? A true Angel. I am so glad that they were spared from living in this New Hell. Thank God my Dream's not true: My famil
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"Sorrowful, yet gloroius somehow, to be humming this one last ode..."
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Your love is my LIGHT,
SUN of all my mornings,
FIRE of all my nights.
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