A Side Order of TearsA Poem by PeteIf I am not I, who will be? - Thoreauinsufficient clothed by nakedness poor but rich i stand at the water's edge winter's frozen abandon turned to spring's playground an old millpond a piece of the river stolen by men of a different era as they sought unnatural wealth not caring about who or what they exploited a cold march wind confidently whipping over an asphalt expanse behind me where iron horses once chugged the geese are here each of them a living poem in motion as they erupt with a telling commotion innocent curious free simply being what they were meant to be honking past muck and mire as for sustenance they aspire never having wrestled with time or faith truth or loyalty they don't know me they don't know my sins they don't even care they're my friends the only one's who'll give me the time of day the only one's who always know the right thing to say i pray them not to ever be slaves to a lie not to abandon me when this fleeting day rolls over with a sigh never to forget me when i die to let the pond be the only thing to cry as i toss them another french fry © 2023 PeteAuthor's Note
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1 Review Added on March 20, 2023 Last Updated on March 27, 2023 AuthorPeteBoston, MAAboutI love reading, writing, music, nature, God and feeling emotion, not necessarily in that order. To me, these things go hand in hand. My favorite writer is Henry David Thoreau. I think he was a geni.. more..Writing
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