A Long Story About Nothing
Maybe what I say
seems commonplace, but rules
are a self-audit, and
I hardly suppose
that any confession is too late, or
that a germ of good might never grow
Maybe no one speaks with purpose,
no single sentence is a human progress
And I hardly suppose
this life is a long story about nothing,
or that such sweet days comes from
bitterness; you, so full with milk.
And should I suppose
that I am free to do as I please,
like the corrupted youth of Athens?
I hardly suppose so.
For dVerse Poets: a vatic poem © Misky 2020 Image from New Zealand National Library. Flickr Commons Illustration by Kay Nielsen (1914), Alexander Turnbull Library