A poem I wrote on a single white rose. What Life Is The walls are white the floor swept clean I wonder why things seems so sterile and mean Do we live our lives in this type of environment To afraid to live too afraid to breath To what purpose is life then but to age and die If our lives are sterile I know not why Let a bit of a mess in let it in again Then see what life has to offer then It won't be sterile nor will it be clean But a life worth living will be seen Life isn't pretty it isn't neat Its messy yes messy or oh so incomplete It is through the trials that we do grow The storms of life are our growth from below We clean and we clean but to no avail For when the wall and floor become clean we fail We fail to see what life can become With all of it's dirt and all of it's fun Jayne A Maynes