Poetry for the Thoughtful

Petals and Saying I Love You

When the first falls,

You think you love him.

With the second,

You know you do.

When the third hits barren earth,

You know he feels it too.

When the fourth falls,

You mumble greetings.

With the fifth

You have to speak.

But when the sixth hits fertile soil,

You know you're much to weak.

With the seventh

You ask a question

With the eighth

You hold his hand.

And finally when the ninth falls,

You take him on a date.

But then the tenth thuds to a landing.

The flower is bare.

And it's to late.