ArtIsYourWeapon

I was sailing from America to England when the call came in, an S.O.S. had just been decoded from the RMS Titanic.  She’d struck an iceberg, and was going down. We were only a couple hours away, and diverted to her transmitted location. Proceeding with care, as we didn’t want to plough into a berg as well, we made our way there. The sight that greeted our eyes will stay with me until my dying day. When we found her, we didn’t find HER, she’d already sunk, but, as far as the eye could see, in any direction, all you could see was wreckage, lifeboats, and bodies, floating in the water. There was near silence in the air,

It was on that fateful 1st, Friday,  when on my locker floor lay. A small red paper heart, with scent,  all twisted up and bent. I picked it up and carefully straightened out the folds,  to see for who the message, was meant to be told. Saturday and Sunday passed by,   with thoughts still pertaining, to the giver of that heart,   whose heart was I retaining? I really wanted to know,  so I could pass it to them to grow. Monday, 4th day, starting a new week,   books from my locker, now I must seek. Carefully now opening up the door,   down beside my feet, a rosebud falls to the floor. I pick up this bright flower place it carefully