Thursday, July 3, 2008

peter

He was always the first to try
and often the very last to cry
yet he was the first to see
who it was that you were meant to be

And you knew that he’d forsake you
with bitter tears and three bold lies
yet your love for him was reckless
always there to restore the kindness
calling him a name that he was not
loosening every dead-bolt lock
to you he was the rock

1 comment:

Rachel said...

Great poem!