It Came to Come
Listen to poem:
It came to come;
with no trumpet call,
no fanfare flair,
no grand parade,
just dust, after all.
It came to be;
without a plan,
without a dream,
of what becoming
really means.
It came to pass;
a lingering lilt of longing,
played with a chorus,
of echoes coming
from distant thrills.
It came to ask;
why no answers given,
to questions asked,
about why your dreaming
has not moved on to deeming.
It came to fate;
which begins with -
what's to come of me,
and ends with -
see what you made me do!
It came to end;
with a full stop, period,
a pirouette, soiree spun;
a gasp, a blink, a sigh,
then, it came to come.
Copyright © John Anderson | Year Posted 2025
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