For A Pretty Lady

 He sent her flowers and a short, sweet note,
"For a pretty lady," it read.
She cherished the note, she loved the gift,
She envisioned happiness just ahead.

The flowers, brightly colored - a summer bouquet.
She cared for them carefully.
She re-read what his note had to say,
Waited for his call - Joyfully!

The days passed by and no call came,
The light in her eyes turned into tears.
As the flowers wilted, she whispered his name,
Then she gave in to her silent fears!

She carried the note in her pocket,
Crushed and smeared from the tears she cried.
His picture smiled back from her locket,
Where she had tucked it safely inside.

He sent her flowers and she heard no more.
He left her life when the flowers wilted.
All she had were the words he wrote,
"For a pretty lady" - she had been jilted!


used by permission
Copyright Carole McLaughlin
All Rights Reserved 



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