We live on rough ground
We stumble when high
And tumble down,
Our hopes are deep
Like the sea
But in them we drown;
We are cyclical
Like the roses
We bloom and die,
And oft as not
We don't get the chance
To say goodbye.
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Author:
Paul Gerard Reed (
Offline) - Published: June 1st, 2025 07:04
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 19
- Users favorite of this poem: Damaso, RSM0812
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Comments2
Well said in this poem of metaphor. Unexpected death may take us in a fall or in the frost of the fall. Nicely written
Yes, I must admit, I do stumble.
But avoid the tumble.
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