Sonnet Number One.

Falling and spinning gracefully to Earth,

Almost never causing a stir to berth.

Often going without notice given,

Even though by it, the land is driven.

As weather and season pass by in time,

Helpless and lonely under dirt and grime.

Time passing by and now all forgotten,

Countless of prints all over it trodden.

Many a year may pass ever so slow,

And to be found again gives a bright glow.

As it's useful once more, even this day,

For it to be passed hand to hand to pay.

However small and humble it may be,

Taken for granted, yet vital to thee.

Aaron Jones.