Marks Poem by Cynthia Buhain-baello

Every sea shell has its own sound
Unique symmetry can be found
Varied colors, intricate lines
Just like the human hand defines.

Every leaf, its distinct vein
Running through its green-tinged grain
Signatures to identify
Like human faces, you and I.

Trees, like men, have character
Wrought by passing years that offer
Changing seasons, joy and tear
Broken or bent, all these appear.

Marred or warped, each thing will show
Marks that tried, tested it so
Each of us bear in our being
What to us Life had been giving.