The man killed his only love

the only thing more beautiful than a blossoming foxglove

with one swift move he sent her away

and began a period of slow decay

and that was the end of his ladylove

who flew away gracefully like a dove

You don’t know what you got

until it’s gone

now with nothing left over which to fawn

it was hard for him to carry on

a love once lost

is hard to again find

you must hold tight

to what you deem devine

for in an instant it may be lost forever