I sketched the moth right on the desk,
Right where he was before his death,
And as I shaded one of his wings,
The classroom hushed.
I didn't look up.
Until the teacher spoke,
And with a finger poked,
At a desk in the very front.
We have a new student, class
His name is Edward Sterling,
He's from Europe.
You stood at this,
With a child's bliss,
Marked on your reddened cheeks.
And my Edward,
One glance of your icy eyes,
Told me how deep,
Your still waters reached.
YOU ARE READING
My Edward & I
Poetry"A story that starts with two hearts, That collide, And then fall apart. "
