Sinps and snatches of the poety I've written through the years...
A rose, a lonely rose,
That sits as it grows;
And ponders the world,
As its leaf is curled.
It will sit and wait,
For a rose’s fate;
And on the dawn of that day,
All its petals will fade away.
Unless it goes to a Victorian home,
Where a rose is preserved with a life of its own;
Over the household it will watch with care,
And joyfully observe all that goes there.
And when in the end its time is past,
The legacy it leaves will still be fast;
For the rose's sweet scent will linger on,
Until the last of its children are finally gone.
[Author's note: The first two stanzas were written in 6th grade, while the last two were written just after college (university)]