Life is like an open book,
Who sees it not, just doesn't look;
For like the air, it's all around,
Seldom seen and nowhere found.

Life is like a lovely rose,
By night it sleeps, by day it grows;
Here today, gone tomorrow,
Never knowing pain or sorrow.

Life is like a tragic play,
So full of things that cannot stay;
Things that rise and so must fall,
Without a bow or curtain call.

Life is like a race to run,
Not to win, but just for fun;
It rolls along from day to day,
Comes again, but not this way.

Life is like a burning star,
Ever close, but , oh, so far;
Shining brightest in the night,
Though by day still burns its light.

Life is like an endless stream,
A babbling brook, a living dream;
Never sleeping, ever waking,
Always giving, never taking.

Life is like the empty sky,
Far away, but also nigh;
Up and down can it be found,
High above and on the ground.

Life is like a newborn child,
Soft and gentle, sweet and mild;
Full of wonder, free of doubt,
It gives itself to all about.

Life is like a mustard seed,
If its to flower, rain it needs;
Tended and feed, if its to grow,
Cast off bounds and beauty know.

Life is like the silver moon,
Its borrowed light is gone so soon;
Hide and seek its favorite game,
It seems to change, yet stays the same.

Life is like a central sun,
It sheds its light on everyone;
Light and warmth it so bequeaths,
To all above and all beneath.

Life is like a timeless sea,
Whose unmoved depths shall ever be;
Though surface winds its waves do blow,
They'll never touch the deep below.