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Trials of life formerly untitled
by Lisa-Dawn SparlingTime, space, truth, love,
keeps slipping through my fingers,
into buckets labelled for a chapter in my life.
Leaving red marks and stains on my hands,
leaving the buckets over flowing.
I tighten my grip, clench my fists,
but the inevitable is impossible to stop,
until we look back and see the sense that was made. 10/28/2003 Posted on 10/28/2003
Copyright © 2025 Lisa-Dawn Sparling
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Max Bouillet on 10/29/03 at 05:49 PM Trying to grasp the intangible when in truth all you need to do is breathe them in let them become you. Esquisite verse that got me thinkin' :) |
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