The air moves from your gesture to the tree
to move a leaf and make it fly away
across the street to land in someone’s tea
before it’s swallowed and the person dies.
You find a shell that washed ashore one day,
giving memories of when you were child;
this one, no other shell around could say
the stories of those times you almost drowned.
A whisper tells you where to go from here,
tall trees move gently as you walk beneath,
they say the neighbour should be drinking beer
instead of tea. It’s not your fault. It’s life.
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Comments about this poem (Guilt by Ina SchrodersZeeders )
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
William Ernest Henley