Different by Clive Martyn

A single wildflower,
Growing in the meadow,
Seems more beautiful -
Alone amongst the grass.

Every snowflake,
Drifting slowly down,
With no twin in the air -
Cannot be compared to another.

Art in the gallery,
Is highly priced and highly prized,
Just because nothing similar -
Ever existed before.

Read the entire poem here

(C) Clive Martyn