Bucket - Poem by Vera Sidhwa
My bucket was filled with the clearest water.
I swooshed it around
And it played with me.
But I threw the water out.
I should've held on to it
For it was comfort giving
But I didn't keep it.
I took the comfort for granted.
I took the comfort for granted
And then I saw huge obstacles in my path
A path so crooked, I couldn't walk upon
It was a bad adventure you see.
My bucket was filled with the clearest water
And I filled it with the clearest water again.
I did not swoosh it around.
I never took for granted that which gave me comfort.
Comments about Bucket by Vera Sidhwa
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
Mary Elizabeth Frye