Poetry Menu

Pieces of Self

There are many pieces of my self,

All flung away, on the wind, and gathered then,

In falling rain.

Like leaves, they blow so violent,

The light rays of a shelf,

To small to hold them all.

Many forms do take,

The lives we choose to make;

All of a dither,

Hither and thither,

They come and glow,

Within the snow;

Each flake a different shape.