The Fallen Flower

A flower has fallen from the sky.
So many flowers; the sky starts to cry.
And angry gray clouds cover the sun.
The storm has come and its not for fun.

The screaming winds push the trees.
The people finally realize: its no gentle breeze.
They rush for cover; they scream with fear,
But the roar of the lion makes no one hear.

Time passes on and the storm went away.
Damage was done and there was hell to pay.
No happy voices, no joking friend
So here comes the last part: The End.

August 31, 2006

Copyright © NHD