If tomorrow was my last day to live,
(And I should be just as surprised as you),
I should feel as a temporary hotel tenant,
Whose business unexpected bid him,
To travel earlier rather than later,
And who didn't get to say goodbye proper ,
To all those lovely people met over this vacation.
Or perhaps I would feel as the wildflower,
Rooted in an oceanic field of my identical fellows,
What should my luck be that a curious traveler by,
Would pick me for my perfection?
To wilt in a jar over some weeks,
Never to bear fruit for the next season, After the first frost would have dispatched, A flower holocaust in my humble field.
I am as a character in a story unfinished,
My author set down the pen and forgot,
To give me a future,
Every time the reader finds me in the pages,
I remember the pulse in my heart,
Of the warmth of my breath-
But where the story ends I dissolve into smoke,
What kinds of adventures will I never have?
YOU ARE READING
Step Into The Light (Poetry and Prose Journal)
PoetryA poetry and prose journal of sorts. Be forewarned though, you might not get what you are expecting. Added to on a semi-regular basis.
