Corsage

This fickle little child

With her simple little mind

Can't understand

Her lack of commitment

She gives up the man

And all that they had

With only the fear

Of abandonment

A flower at her wrist

He asks her to wear

As she sits below him

Mussing her hair

When in truth she worries

Of the time to come

She only tells him "No,

I want to have fun."

But he doesn't know

What the flower represents

Men's waning love

As it now lays dead.

She paints bright beauty

On the face of friends

And dances the night away

Thinking only of him.