Today was damp and dreary and I was writing this sort of damp and dreary poem, but decided to write something a bit less damp and dreary and I will stop saying damp and dreary now so you can read the poem:
Some lives burst like the blossoming flower,
full of color and vivacity
and scented like the sweetest blooms.
Lives that ripen and mature like the choicest fruits,
objects of envy and high regard;
these lives like flowers lack not content nor joy,
and end surrounded by their admirers.
Other lives spring up among the grasses,
like a simple cornflower, plain but pure,
and toil, unnoticed beside the milkweed
taking joy in simple bliss.
These lives fade like the wilting flower,
slow and without ceremony.
They go unnoticed and depart
but leave their seeds to carry on.