Again
It one time was a flower
Glistened in the dew
Next it was a seagull
flying by anew
Then it was a raindrop
dancing in my eye
Last it was a rising trout
going for my fly
Many tiny moments
quickly passing by
It is anticipation
again
before we die?
The End
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Author guidance for This poem
Feel free to add to my anti-utopic conjecture. Mine is the ruination of the ideal that perfection can be found, it is the thought that perfection is just a solitary moment, and that in itself contradicts its own meaning - perfection would last longer than that, were it perfection. 5 PARTICIPANTS IN THIS POEM
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Heaven was a Whisper.... This chapter
was posted on Nov 13, 2009 by
lobstermasher.
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