"Bradley"

“Bradley”
This one tragic morning,
I believe it was September
The gentle hand that plucked me
Is all I can remember

His name was Bradley Sherman
A young man dressed in green
Patches and badges covered his shirt
He was happy, or so it seemed.

My red petals waved in the wind
As he carried me over to her
He placed me in her hair,
And then said, “Nothing is for sure”

The girl burst out in tears
He stopped and kissed her goodbye
And then he walked off, got onto plane,
And she continued to cry.

She pulled me out of her hair
Looked, and continually wept.
And as I lay by her bed that night
Neither of us slept.

Bradley’s high school photograph
Was placed next to me
And then I finally understood
For now, Bradley I must to be.

I heard her telling all her friends
Bradley had gone to war.
But if it caused her so much pain,
What did he leave her for?

And so then many days passed
I knew my petals were turning brown
I was oh so brittle,
Not implanted in the ground

And once she knew that I was dying
She threw me in the trash
All in a rage of tears and madness
I then knew, that Bradley did not last.