Every single blade of grass
And every flake of snow,
Is just a wee bit different
There is no two alike, you know.
From something small, like grains of sand,
To each gigantic star,
Each one was made with this in mind
To be just what they are!
How foolish then, to imitate,
And how useless to pretend
When each one of us comes from a mind
Whose ideas never end.
There’ll only be just one of me
To show what I can do,
And likewise, you should feel very proud
That there is only one of you.
(Deb Moir, 1959-1976)
