Some people have expressed curiosity about the first poem I ever wrote. If I remember correctly, I was around 15 years of age. I could be a little off about that. It was a lifetime ago after all. I was withdrawn and had great difficulty expressing my feelings to anyone. So I thought, why not try a piece of paper? Why not confide in something that couldn’t judge? The result was these few lines. It’s nothing much really, but it was the catalyst that fueled my desire to become a writer. Here goes…..

The red rose stands still…
Alone…
Silent
In the cool morning air.
The dewdrops resting on its fragrant petals
Dance
In an exquisite array,
On the fires of a newborn sun.
A stray gust of wind
Stirs it into lazed motion…
For a while…
And then…
The red rose is still again,
Symbolizing all that love should be.
Its thorn,
Daring you to touch.