The Point

I sang for you
once,
at the cliff’s edge,
and you came to me.
You came to me
because
that was the point,
wasn’t it?
And I thought
I was clever.
And I thought
you were good.
I learned in time
that though
all stories are true,
I am
never
right.

No tags for this post.
This entry was posted in Poetry. Bookmark the permalink.

Go ahead -- say something. Anything.