Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words.~Robert Frost

Saturday, September 30, 2006

Still Standing.......

Wind sweeping across my face
water flowing right past me
each with its own constant pace
moves forever for all to see

yet i am stagnant
still standing as i was
have i become dormant?
in this confusion i'm lost

leaves still falling in autumn
rain still pouring in monsoons
winter still freezing our bottoms
spring still bathing in blooms

yet i'm still here
here, as i've always been
on my cheek lies a frozen tear
which to all is unseen...

life is never stagnant
it goes on no matter what
so how have i become dormant?
how have i become something i was not??.......