Finding Joy

Yesterday I opened a book that I had started reading many years ago, and I discovered a piece of paper with a short poem that I had written.  I used to paint and draw and write poetry much more often than I do now, but it was a happy surprise to find my poem stashed away in a book.  I don’t even know what it means, or what I was thinking when I wrote it, but here it is:

 

The fairest gem

Upon a band of gold

The whitest rose

With rosebuds in the fold

The meekest lamb

With soft and tender eyes

The brightest star

Above the starlit skies

Each is but a fragment of thy beauty

Finding joy where others see a duty.

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