Life starts ,
as a seed...
With time ,
we grow.
Destined to blossom,
Only for our own life purpose.
Time is precious.
Not for the faint-hearted!
Withering ,
the next step,
to finally rest.
Our time will come ,
when we have to ,
be a seed again.
( Dedicated to my late grandfather , Cedric Christopher Samuels. May you rest in peace , Pa. He encouraged me to write poems and stories. )