A Flower in Fall

Sitting in a sheltered home 

There in her bedroom, all alone 

Was a girl, only 17 years old 

She was drawing once again 

As she always does at 10:00 

 

She doesn’t have many friends, 

Except for the ones in her head. 

 

While she does have friends to: 

Talk to- 

Cry to- 

Complain to- 

 

And friends to: 

Walk with-  

Laugh with- 

Love with- 

 

There isn’t a friend that can really be 

An actual friend for the girl, 17 

 

While she means no harm, to her friends around her 

they just don’t provide any feeling for her to gasp onto 

As she feels ill in their company 

And can’t seem to bind onto their energy 

 

She sighs in melancholy: 

How long must I feel lonely? 

 

Her pencil starts moving, and the feeling starts sinking 

 

A picture in her head, is what she is trying to create 

Her hand moves quicker, and time’s presence becomes slimmer 

 

A boy is what she makes, as she illustrates her talent sketched 

She pictures her creation with determination,  

as she puts pen to paper just like that 

 

Her heart doesn’t feed off her isolation, but instead her manifestation 

Of her fantasy she wants to be a reality. 

 

As she begins to color him in, her heart flutters with ecstasy 

A happiness, only she can plunder 

 

Once she finished, she lays lights and shadows on this man. 

 

Taking a step back, she holds her breath 

 

She is amazed at what she made, 

as her heart flutters like butterflies in spring. 

 

She saves her work and walks outside, 

Feeling pretty satisfied in stride. 

 

As she walks around the block, she stops by a shop. 

A beautiful bouquet shop with flowers 

covering every corner as high to shelf tops. 

 

She stares at a flower for a while, before noticing a fellow 

When she realizes, she stops and stares 

Upon the conclusion, that the fellow right there 

Was the one she drew that day 

 

Her cheeks were as rosy as those on the shelves, 

She tried her best to not look at him 

As her heart was soaring 

 

He smiles and waves, wondering, 

If she wanted to buy the flower that she had been studying 

 

To make a conversation short, 

She made the request to purchase 

 

As she went to pick it up, he did as well. 

With hands making contact, 

Her eyes fell onto the floor, not noticing his grin. 

 

Before she left the door, he had told her to come more 

And as she waved goodbye, 

 

She looked at the flower she got 

In the fall. 

 

This poem is about: 
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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