Dedicated to Sherman an exceptionally caring RN who spent his life caring for the mentally ill in a State Hospital. He died by his own hand, at the age of 60, March 2004, 10 days from retirement. Sherman you will be missed!

A bloom grew in a patch of weeds
Its fragrance sweet and lovely
Admired for persistent growth
In a plain, homely location

For years this plant had spread its joy
Over thistle and poison ivy vines
For years this flower gave its beauty
To weeds and thorny bramble

Then one day whispers on the wind
Over heard by the blossom ‘mong the weeds
A whisper that this bright, fair bud
Was out of place and must be plucked

The flower heard and bowed its head
And sadness filled the weed patch
With but a sigh this lonely sprout
Gave up its lifelong struggle

Never again to grace this weedy place
Never again to spread its fragrance sweet
Both weeds and flowers mourn its passing
And all the green-world weeps