Posted in Fiction & Poetry

I Was Listening To Frank

 

All the things I could be

All my choices from life that tree

Pick a plum and see

 

I reached yes I did

I picked the fruit

But it withered and turned to dust

 

Yet I picked again never doubting a minute

It shriveled once more

Undaunted I chose

 

Again and again

My tree of life bloomed

More opportunity to choose

 

Here I am

It’s Autumn for me that age

My heart carries on still young

 

Yet life still blooms

I pick another plum

Will this be the one?

 

Though some weren’t for me

With this one we’ll see

Through struggle sometimes pain

 

What’s left in store

 

 

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