Who are you, friend?
Why do you know these things I don't?
How come you here?
Is there a space to fill I won't?
In separate
times, does autumn come unseen,
or is it me? Am I
too new, too green?
The questions asked by the brotherhood of man
Or the sisterhood of woman, either one;
Do I know? Do I ever know? Or is
This world just scattered leaves, and
Fallen hopes?
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Tagged: Tags Poetry
Published by Beleaguered Servant
Owen "Beleaguered" Servant (a/k/a Sibelius Russell) writes poetry mostly, with an occasional pause to have a seizure.
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