Awaiting her forthcoming hour,
She stands alone, expectant
Of many faces and many ways
And unfulfilled aspirations
Out her windows she glares
at the waning horizon
The graying skies of her life
Cloud her inspiration
Long past, in her prime, where life was short
She lived her life her way
Conceit and greed reigned supreme
Her life, she had wasted away.
So there she stands, a withered rose bud
Waiting, waiting to bloom
The dark, stale wind blows at her,
Her petals to their doom
--> RJC LT3, Computing Lecture, 10am 17th July 1995
We only have one chance at life. What will you do with yours?
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