Until Trying Is Old

I’m going to tell you the secret of life
it is butter, a sweetheart, a book
it is coffee and jam and taking a walk
with big and little loved ones straggling
and laughing at yourself over a beer.

I’m going to tell you the opposite
of happiness is not having a book and butter
on fresh bread and not having babies
to giggle with and not coffee no beer
and no making the morning worldly wild.

On a plate with a fork
on fire in the cold
untouched in the hand
until trying is old.

What are the many names of the opposite
of happiness? Littering the side of the street
we are not strolling on at the moment
names like wrappers cups and straws
barely used and describing neglect.

I’m going to tell you the secret of life
although I still haven’t figured it out yet
it comes in a box in a chest in a cave
it must be found nurtured fought for
it is hard won and yet easily conquered.

On a plate with a fork
on fire in the cold
untouched in the hand
until trying is old.

 

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About mrsorenson

all over the place
This entry was posted in poem, poetry, song and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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