I am frightened.
Not of the dark or a spider,
Nor of lightening or of being hit by a hanglider.
I am scared.
Not of hanging a shelf,
Nor of thunder or that I have no wealth.
I am worried.
Not of dinner alone,
Nor of things that go bump in the night or being turned into a clone.
I am fearful.
Not that I will ever lack family or friends,
Nor of not having a partner, a mate, and the end.
I am hopeful.
Not that you will understand,
Nor that this makes sense or you can comprehend.
I am hopeful.
Not for a husband or a white knight,
Nor to be saved or relieved of my fright.
I am scared.
Not of what you think,
Nor for how this poem will end or if frogs can blink.
I am scared.
That is enough and for now what I have to say,
To spout out and to display.
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