____________________

She’s stirring to the thrashing, Of a Very divergent Drum,

She’s Sitting On The perspective, Wondering When the Dawn Will Come,

She welcomes and absconds, but in the Silence Sheds a Tear,

So much potential she cannot fail, No Minute to spend on fear

Escaping to Her dream terrain that changes every year.

A few would label her Siren, splendor beyond credence,

But those who know the Truth keep a powerful Defense.

She is in word a flower, one that you wouldn’t overlook,

Building this world that little bit nicer, as we get hastily overtook.

I wouldn’t say she’s perfect, as that removes the feeling of progress,

But she’s fuel for the soul, and she’ll Stop and revive your breath.

 

Edward Ramsden

 

I wrote this about a girl called Dawn.

She was amazing.

 

 

I Called it __________ Because I didnt want people to know who it was written for.

I Often write poems about and for people but never give them away.