Mistakes - Poem by Hans Ostrom
If each mistake I’ve ever made in this,
My life, were to become a snowflake, drifts
Would rise above the eaves. I’d open wide
The door and look into a blue-tinged bank
Of snow. I’d close the door and say, “I should
Have left last week when I first heard the news
A storm was coming in.' I’d light a fire.
The room would fill with smoke, however, for
I’m sure I would have left the damper closed.
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Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
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