By the red flower statue next to the river
Two souls have met under the September sun.
Words flowed for hours like a symphony,
Days later fond feelings were exchanged in th’ heat.
For a week, distance did them part
And gray clouds have rolled in with the aid of autumn winds.
Yet, Summer remained in her heart as she waited for him;
But her heart he desired not anymore when he returned.
For he now desired lust, adultery, an emotional desert.
The crisp-white bed sheets went red that night –
Not with virgin blood, but her ripped-out heart
With which’s last beat all hope and joy was lost.
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