The Cabin - Poem by Jan Hauck
Is it a coincidence that I have a wooden shelf,
A marching band of blind bottles with brittle corks,
Containing many of my screams.
No smoky dreams will come out if I polish them,
No three wishes, just terrified eyes and mouths,
That usually break glass but not those bottles,
Missing their messages and ships.
And all day I sit at my table, carving, screaming,
I have to, I have to!
My boots in the corner like open graves.
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The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
Mary Elizabeth Frye
William Ernest Henley
Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night