Life
The kiss of death comes once we are born.
After the torn umbilical chord
and your mom kisses you on your forehead.
It marks your destiny for death.
Not too sure if that's what she meant
A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness. It finds the thought and the thought finds the words.
Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.
EvanF’s Poems (1)
| Title | Comments | Submitted |
|---|---|---|
| Title | Comments | Submitted |
| Life | 0 | 01/26/2016 |
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