A week ago she was fresh and bright,
Drenched in rain and soaked in dew.
You would want to hold her, fondle and caress her,
Such was her beauty, just a week ago.
I smiled at her, teased and played with her.
Her arms were warm, lending the comfort that I sought.
Yet when I recollect the past one week,
I know that she has transformed from the one she was.
The freshness on her face has replaced with fury,
The face that brought me joy was no more cheerful,
Her presence was now just a sad reminder
Of the glorious days I spent in her arms.
This pretty lady is not a strange face to you,
She’s smart and bubbly, but now burning in fury.
Step out in the sun, and you’ll be a bull’s eye on the road.
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