She reminded him of March violets,
Pretty little white,
Ugly horrible liar,
heaven was never in the night,
or when she did her hatred act for an hour.
She smelled like a mix of roses,
couldn’t hate her if time forced him to,
for her little simple poses,
made him go crazy nights and hours as they do…
To tell the truth about them both would be painful,
for those who watch judge only what they can see,
No one can really tell if she truly loves him playful,
or is she just waiting for her final hour of pleading guilty to the sea.