LIVING

A babe;
A tiny, fragile person.
Born into this unpredictable world.
Not knowing all the crime and sin,
Not knowing what's in store for him.
Growing up to be a man
Making something of himself;
Proving to the world
That he has made his mark,
An indent in this world.
Something that will be remembered,
But then only to be too soon forgotten
When he passes from this earth,
Of course,
That's what living is all about.
Unknown "Strong Jill" Loving - 16 years, 3 months, 12 days ago

This is a poem I wrote while in highschool. Thought I'd share it with you

HIGH ON A HILL TOP

High on a hill top
It sits all alone;
An old empty farmhouse
Which a man called home.

It was considered a castle
from the day he was born,
The tree with many branches
Had now twindled to a thorn.

To him it was priceless
As no money could replace;
The years spent within it
Could not be erased.

The man has now left us
but his memory remains;
High on that hill top
It still lies the same.
Unknown "Strong Jill" Loving - 16 years, 3 months, 12 days ago