at the end of my life
i wonder if someday when i'm older
pondering the little shells of writing
i have produced, lieing strewn about
here and there along the sand,
will I be able to pick one up and
hurl it into the vast ocean, and say,
"that one made all the difference,"
or will i simply walk along
crunching them under my
tired, calloused feet.
pondering the little shells of writing
i have produced, lieing strewn about
here and there along the sand,
will I be able to pick one up and
hurl it into the vast ocean, and say,
"that one made all the difference,"
or will i simply walk along
crunching them under my
tired, calloused feet.
posted by Ima Poemer at 11:27 PM
1 Comments:
For me, it takes a long time to get perspective and appreciate what a difference one thing makes. Unless it's someone bequeathing me a million dollars. Then I'll know instantly.
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