A Rare Thought

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
I have been going through some old poems and I wrote this one as a sort of combination of them all.

Submitted: September 09, 2012

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Submitted: September 09, 2012

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How can we say these things don't matter?

An artist trapped in a self-expressive limbo

or a reader searching for meaning

in the pages of an unturned

book.

Are all such lives this way inclined?

To love, to hope, to long, to die.

Are weall justsearching

searching

searching.

How can we say these things don't matter?

A driver's swift decision to move

left or right,

right

or wrong.

The gentle arch of beauty in a

butterfly's wing.

A baby's first cry

or a young girl's last good bye.

What of these moments?

The small ones.

The moments that pass us by so quickly.

How can we say these things don't matter?

They are what matter

most.


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