Reinhard Stobbe

Ambush

He backed in such a funny way
I froze due to the fear.
There was a wiggle and a sway
the whiff of Polish beer.

He said, a voice of no regret
that life begets its prize,
he held my hand, I'm glad we met
and looked into my eyes.

I was, as you might know my friend,
a cousin to his mother,
and in the end, the very end
I'd love him as my brother!

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Poem Submitted: Saturday, June 14, 2008

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Robert Frost

The Road Not Taken



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