* this is one of the first poems i ever wrote*
Roses fall from your hair;
Flouting hopelessly down.
When they drop do you dare
To grasp them in your fingers?
Do you let them lay?
Despite your power,
Till rocks fall like stares
And crush your flower.
Perhaps, the silver
Will blow so far
Lifted up into
An old bed of tare.
The gloomy gray will
Consume its sparkle,
Leavening you statue’d,
Cold, and darker.
But don’t think there is no sparker,
No way for the roses to grow.
Stay patent, and you will find just
Above the surface Buds will show.
