Teaspill - Poem by Frederick Kesner
Up to a point
the leaves will seep
into all the waters
until the cup overflows
so much as to stain
the meticulously starched table linen.
Then we shall face with reckoning
its true substance!
Comments about Teaspill by Frederick Kesner
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
- Still I RiseMaya Angelou
- The Road Not TakenRobert Frost
- If You Forget MePablo Neruda
- DreamsLangston Hughes
- Annabel LeeEdgar Allan Poe
- Stopping By Woods On A Snowy EveningRobert Frost
- IfRudyard Kipling
- Do Not Stand At My Grave And WeepMary Elizabeth Frye
- I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love YouPablo Neruda
- TelevisionRoald Dahl