Saturday, August 9, 2008

Something old

A wilted rose petal falling to the ground,
Waiting for a tree to grow,
Wanting for a flower to blossom,
The grief of many people wanting for so many actions to happen,
Gives disappointment to others,
Yet for the sun to rise,
Waits for no other,
Like a sorrow flying in the sky,
Flying for freedom and peace,
The space for tranquility seldom happens,
A person cannot wait for such behavior,
To come at such petty pace,
Patience is a virtue,
Which statement is exceptionally true,
The benefit that lies ahead,
Would be often appreciated,
Of my despair and hope,
Cannot stand by itself for long,
As the water leaks through the roof of a home,
I give my respect for such opinions,
But I have an opinion of my own,
Waiting for a hail storm to happen,
Is not such a pretty sight,
From Mother Nature,
A miracle that could happen upon two genders of a kind,
Gives life to death itself.

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