Young Writers Society

plopping down,
the single sound,
the one that makes the courter cry.
the room will drown,
their feelings down,
the affects of the lie.

young girl, so sweet, so innocent,
that only nothing had she meant,
the one who's gone
the one now mourned.
the girl, so young, with endearment.

with lips so slender,
thoughts could not bend her,
she knew that she was beautiful.
her head was kind, though,
generous, so sad now,
that all that's good is of the null.

for once, so fair, so full of dare,
the young one was so temporare.
she could not last,
so soon, and BLAST!
the young one is no more.

the courter's cry,
rose to the sky,
one every one shall hear.
the man is alone,
his courter gone.

the young girl's face turned abalone,
with nature she has become one,
and only once, so very rarely,
one shall hear her voice.

tingling in their ears and hearts,
the young man grows quite old,
but in himself feels pure and jolly,
with she who was never melancholy.