as vain it is to whisper words
in a storm rough as the world,
what are you in a sea of people
findin help for their daily troubles?

perhaps only a fern after all
that is happy with daily light
and posseses no mind of it`s own
or power to change it's form.

this fern you grab with selfish joy
and jealously survey the forest`s trees,
the only flower that drops falls gently,
your name not written on it`s petals.

you stay a while and then leave
and still the world rolls dreamingly on
not even missing the fern you
you took as your farewell prize.



AN adaptation of ROBERT FROST`s ON GOING UNNOTICED[i][/i]