Where does the camellia flower begin and end?
Of that I am uncertain.
What joy does the light of day, what fear does the night send?
Of that I cannot say.
What secret is there that cannot be told?
Of that I am not sure.
Where does my reflection go when I am away from the mirror?
Of that I am unsure.
The fox looks not for answers in the woods,
The rabbit digs and digs and reveals nothing.
But will the fox devour the rabbit.
Of that I am certain.
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Author:
David Wakeling (
Offline) - Published: December 27th, 2024 04:01
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 23
Offline)
Comments5
When I was young I was certain of so many things now that I am old I am certain of nothing. A most fun poem written in a form that begs the reader to keep on reading reveling its message little by little. So well constructed
That is a great critique. I am certain of that. Thank you
It comes across to me as really in life most things we cannot ever be certain about, but in death we can as it comes to all of us. Written in a clever and fun way, enjoyed the read.
Thank you so much.
You are very welcome
Our gateway for the last 6-7 years had camellias as ‘sentry posts’ now this poem has for me a visual. And this fox is always hungry like a wolf… no rabbit is safe.
Of that I am certain.Thanks for your comments. Always mucho appreciado
Most-o werukamo 👍🏻
Excellent write David
Thank you mi amigo
You're welcome
Life can change every day David but we should be happy that we have lived through it and are still here, I am.
Andy
Me too. Thanks for your comments
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