Greatest Fear
I have a confession to make.
I don't know the first thing about poetry.
I don't know about the rules
The rhymes
The euphony
That add to its glory,
Its beauty.
I don't understand each category
That determines where each
Beautiful body of voice belongs,
Bracketing each expression of speech
Into a home.
I wonder where this one fits in.
Will it be accepted by its kin?
Or a distant echo
Of what could have been
But never came to pass?
No imprint, no trace,
To leave behind
And make an impression
On the minds of mankind.
My soul's strongest hope
And its closet fear -
To never be heard
Nor remembered
For what it holds dear.
Copyright © Rebecca Kiser | Year Posted 2025
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