Thursday, July 5, 2007

" E L O W E R S "

Oh how it is, I wonder,

to smile at break of day.

And marvel at the flowers,

overcoming grey.

How can a simple flower

in the beauty of its play,

live a life of honor,

when all I do is flay.

Sad thoughts demand attention

this statue made of clay.

My consciousness demands it,

for I`m its chosen prey.