Poetry, Now it's my time to play
I remember well the many nights she left me all alone.
Flowers for a dead lover by The Examiner-1 A challenge by Frank Atancio's April poetry month.
Placing flowers on a headstone is eerie
' cause walking through a graveyard is lerry
You hear a noise and it sounds like a ' crack '
It was only a cat-but was it black?
You feel a breeze
It blows through the trees
You believe you saw a ghost
It was the shadow of a post
Suddenly you decide to leave
You do regret that you did not grieve,
My response, Now it's my time to play
How could i possibly grieve at my lover's grave
She treated me like dirt
Calling me her white trash slave
I remember well the nights she left me all alone
Dancing with the boys at the club
A dive where she was well known
I cooked and cleaned, watched the kids twenty four hours a day
When she finally decided to come home
She always refused to play
Saying, " I'm tired. I have a headache
Please just go away "
One fateful night she went too far
Caught her all cuddled up
With an old boy at the bar
Told her the kids were crying and needed their mother
She laughed and said,
" Who do you think you are, my brother? "
That's when i'd finally had enough. I shot her once right between her eyes
Her cheating day's were over
No more lies, no more guy's
I've been in prison for years for my crime, just got out today
When i placed the flowers on her grave
I whispered softly
Now it's my time to play.
