Saturday, September 08, 2007


This poem was written in grade 12. Now abide these things, faith, hope, and charity. But the greatest of these is charity. In today's English, it's better translated as love. But the original word charity exemplifies exactly what kind of love we are talking about here.

By Robert Park
Unknown Date

A myriad of colours before me
Life can be so bland
How long has it been
How long
Since I last saw one
One flower
Many flowers
Filling the air with their fragrance
A hint of spice

This beauty
Hidden from me
Not hidden but forgotten
In despair
And the trials of schedule
The world is too much with us
He did say
And the little things
We have forgotten
How easy it is
To forget the hard work
Of a busybee

This bee worked
Its forelegs rubbing together
Doing something or other
Drawing nectar
All part of the magical process
To make that special substance
The little things
That we often forget
And I wonder
For the life of me
How one can survive
Without acts of love and care
In humanity.

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