Poem

Poem #10All poems are to some extent derivative:Other poets, better written rhymes,Real life, just the things I ’ve noticed.We ’re all just thinking in the pastOr deluded by an conjured future,Clinging to falling snow,Mad rush clutching at the last almond in the bowlIt ’s not a representative sample,All these transient things we choose.It isn ’t fair to all the desultory rest, The noble, mundane hereness of all the in-between:This chair I ’m sitting on.That moon that looks injured.The smudged glass holding my wine;I ’ll probably just drink it anyway.I can ’t say that I really mind.12/11/19

Source: Buckeye Surgeon - December 11, 2019 Category: Surgery Authors: Jeffrey Parks MD FACS Source Type: blogs