…..
when it grows up,
this poem wants to be
a raging fire
a tumultuous se
a prowling beast
a fierce and fearsome wind
(if only it would
grow.)
and then it
tumbled to the snow, and
discovered it was
something,
all along.
when it grows up,
this poem wants
to be
a quiet song.
….
Written for Poetic Asides.
when it grows up,
this poem wants
to be
a quiet song
sometimes we have to live a lot of years to learn this simple desire, to be a quiet song; this is what i was listening to while reading your lovely poem: happenstance, by maria taylor; i love the way it sort of trails off, a quiet song, like your poem, like what life was meant to do
carly, this comment has quite literally made my day. thank you so much.
Yes, I think so, after all of that out-rage-ing desire!
Beautiful… You’ve managed to squeeze in the wisdom of a 100 years into a few quiet lines. Unfortunately, one usually has to ‘tumble to the snow’ to realize it.
Mmmmmm! Gorgeous–lovely, makes me sooo happy! I was tumbling along too-so soft, and sweet at the end. Loved this