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