I Went Down To Cherry Blossom Lane Poem by Stan Petrovich

Going there was certainly to inspire hope
Of changing seasons, their new pleasures to cope.
But all I saw was a rock-strewn cliff
Made for suicides, hopefulness adrift.
I bent my toes over the ledge
And tears streamed down my craggy face.
What is the use of living in the rat race?
I fell upon two knees and howled lke the wind,
Which answered me, one of a kind.

When a choice is to be made,
The wise react first, then take it in.
The sullen relect in verse
And, often adverse, do nothing.

It was the time for action.
I was no poet from then on.