last star
Perhaps there is one shinning light,
one star left in the depth’s of night,
someone to whom my all I’ll give,
who give me pause, a chance to live.
I dedicate my life to him,
his love, though flowing to the brim,
is his to give as is his need,
and though I feel no lack indeed,
there yet may come a fateful day,
when he will up and walk away,
but ill be ever ready, at his side to run.
How could I not?
He is my son.
If I feel physically as if the top of my head were taken off, I know that is poetry.
Emily Dickinson (1830-1886) American poet.
| Title | Comments | Submitted |
|---|---|---|
| Title | Comments | Submitted |
| EVIL | 0 | 02/04/2014 |
| Disenchanted | 0 | 02/04/2014 |
| A poem of loss | 0 | 02/04/2014 |
| Lies | 0 | 02/04/2014 |
| She | 0 | 08/01/2013 |
| Last words of a sane man, | 0 | 06/26/2013 |
| untitled | 0 | 01/24/2012 |
| The Sadness | 1 | 01/23/2012 |
| last star | 0 | 01/13/2012 |
| SICK | 0 | 01/10/2012 |
| Little Ode | 0 | 01/10/2012 |
| HOPE | 0 | 01/10/2012 |
| The Pub | 0 | 10/08/2009 |
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