Problems Poem by Luke Bushen
Problems
I did not see it coming ‘til
It hit me in the face,
It crept up slowly without so much
As leaving any trace.
Until, at last, it could no longer
Continue to subside,
So it burst into the open,
Never again to hide.
What am I to do with it,
Now that it is here?
The answer is not currently,
To me, quite very clear.
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
Topic(s) of this poem: leaving
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8/4/2026 11:25:18 PM # rel_20260803T153344Z_4267e77
