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The Playwrights Forum > The Art & Craft of Writing > Poet's Corner : Critique my Poem > Unaware

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 Posted: Wed Dec 14th, 2011 01:23 am
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timmy
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Joined: Fri Jun 9th, 2006
Location: Oz, Minnesota USA
Posts: 1077
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One day does nothing
special to mark its presence;
no measure of minutes, no
heightening shadow of tree
on tree, no branch or leaf
on grass, no blade on earth

You enjoy the seasons, savor
any morning over any other
morning, birds that swoop
slowly the days off their backs;
why then must you always
look into the pool and expect
the image to love you back?

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