Rules
The windowsill collects the snow.
When will it stop? I cannot know.
The truth seeps in - I should not go
outside.
I ought to do as I've been told -
my mother's voice begins to scold:
"Some folks have gotten ill from cold,
or died."
An afterthought: rules may disguise
or hide life's meaning from our eyes -
a test, to separate the wise
from fools.
Perhaps discernment is to take
a deeper look for wisdom's sake,
to know when to (or not to) break
the rules.
Some rules are meant to be kept locked:
the Ten Commandments (don't be shocked),
or vows one takes when one has walked
the aisle.
But rules deserve a second glance:
to firmly hold, or look askance?
I brush the snowflakes off my pants
and smile.
written 13 Oct 2021
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment