I Write Poetry

Cecilia

Cecilia was a church going girl.
Dreams of youth eternal.
The sweetheart of all she touched.
The heady laugh that charmed all men.

The world at her feet she embarked
A journey of such cruel outcome.
Yet how could she have known,
That the end would be so far from home?

The bitter breeze stings,
Cecilia turned up her collar to the bitter wind.
Less visions of her white fr<x>ame house.
This cardboard box will do.

Patrick