Making Sense Of It Poem by Theresa Ann Moore
Making Sense Of It
Hey diddle diddle…stuck in the middle
In the center of a fanciful riddle
While chasing attainable dreams…
Promises puncture… missing the target
Empty handed…or so it seems
Didn’t end up where you thought
The stars you reached for were not caught
Dry those tears and pursue something new
An unhappy path retraced leads to a dead end
Change the view… bid disappointment adieu
8/27/09
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/19/2024 3:21:35 AM # 1.0.0.1119
