Trying my hand at poetry

A Manifesto on Life:

The Cactus

The snow falls                    

outside on the hill;            

tiny crystals                        

float here and there.         

In a window, the cactus stands            

as tall and proud as it possibly can.    

Prickled and green, rigid and still,   

it cares not for that snow on the hill.  

Days go by

and the snow melts.

The sun shines bright

a warmth unfelt

by the cactus, prickled and green.

A desire for more remains to be seen

for the cactus,  all alone

upon the sill it forever calls home.

The life of                    

a cactus so grand          

may be for some            

the perfect stance.         

As for me, I prefer the sky,          

the cold world of danger that reigns outside.   

Cruel may be the struggle of man      

But with it comes love, hope, and a helping hand.