I thought I'd start with an old poem. I'm not entirely sure how this site 
works yet so bare with me and I'd be grateful for any tips!

I hope you like it,

Heather xx


Billy and the Flowers

In my garden, flowers were like friends;
with their sultry bodies, up-turned heads
simmering in the acrid air.
But then; the plague came.

Billy said we'd die.
Good, I thought.
My flowers and I were tired of the children's laughter -
down the lane.
Billy said that everyone would die.
Except me. 'Cause Billy would protect me.
I didn't think much to that.

Then the flowers got sick:
peachy petals fell and their leaves went dry,
all dried up like brittle sticks.

They never bloomed again.

I wanted to tell Billy. I couldn't find him.
Down the lane with its absence of laughter
my feet went thud thud thud.
At Billy's door slick with its thick red paint
my fist went thud thud thud.

No laughter. No answer.

Billy and the flowers were - gone.