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What Am I
by Philip F De Pinto
Or who or why,
Were I not imbibing on
Some ointment in your good bye?
Were I not indentured to a maze,
Some odd turning in a phrase?
Were I not encouraging
Some idle chatter on a wall
Or page to march to its own beat or doom?
My own writing perhaps,
Or some or other sloth graffiti in your eye?
These are my feeding and proving grounds,
Dubious though they seem and without a care.
These my anchors,
My ballast, to tweak so to speak.
I would be heading off a cliff somewhere otherwise,
In despair, or plummeting upwards in the air.
01/19/2013 Posted on 01/19/2013
Copyright © 2024 Philip F De Pinto
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