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Lark

I am not the here again,
gone again sort, not the kind
who wounds without cause.

Selfishness is not my brand,
though I know you have met others
who only trade on their brief
looks and presence,
then float away like dust, unseen,
in the morning, replaced
by a note or late gesture.

I am not the lark, the fling,
the one-time-sort-of-thing,
I am the stayer, the constant,
the solid, and the ready.

Nor am I easily upturned
by a slight wind of change.

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  1. Date: 9/16/2014 4:06:00 PM

    This one make me think, glad to read such a poem, unwavering quality good on you xxx
  1. Date: 9/16/2014 3:55:00 PM

    WOW! You are the kind who writes Great Poetry!

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