Posted: July 12, 2010 in Poetry

as vain it is to whisper words
in a storm rough as the world.
what are you in a sea of people
going about their daily struggles.

perhaps only a fern after all
that is happy with daily light
and posseses no mind of it`s own
or power to change it’s form.

this fern you grab with selfish joy
and look round the forest`s trees,
the only flower that drops falls gently,
your name not written on it`s petals.

you stay a while and then leave
and still the world rolls dreamingly on
not even missing the fern you
you took as your farewell prize.

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