Often or not I stare change in the face,
Wanting her to see the strain she has put me through,
But I can't see any emotions from her,
She is just the paper to your pen,
She can not show you what to write when your time comes,
She can only give you the chance to write,
But this paper is not something you take lightly,
No this is your masterpiece,
Your creation,
And when she comes and you look into her eye
What will you see,
A couple poorly scribbled sentences,
Jotted down is some form of short hand,
Or a masterpiece,
A symphony of life,
wonderment and, happiness,
Because when I see change I am prepared,
She is a old friend that I hope to see more of,
She is what keeps me on my toes
And she is the hand that points me in the right direcrion,
Even when I beg and plead,
She stops and smiles,
With the wildest look in her eye,
And says,
"You're going to love this.