Sickle Poem by Chris Krummenacher
Sickle
Sickle of wind,
meeting the wheat.
Coming to cut me down.
Cut me down to size.
A river will run from my eyes.
Swift enough to sweep clean,
not deep enough to drown
the loss I'll come to realize.
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
Topic(s) of this poem: loss,river
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Poems By Chris Krummenacher
Best Poems
Best Member Poems
Best Classical Poems
New Poems
New Poets
Best Member Poets
Best Classical Poets
Explore Poems
Explore Poets
Poem Of The Day
Love Poems
Baby Poems
Death Poems
Sad Poems
Birthday Poems
Wedding Poems
Nature Poems
Sorry Poems
Hero Poems
Poetry E-Books
Delivering Poems Around The World
Poems are the property of their respective owners. All information has been reproduced here for educational and informational purposes to benefit site visitors, and is provided at no charge...
8/28/2026 4:51:20 AM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
