The Poems Were Coming Night And Day - Poem by Shalom Freedman
THE POEMS WERE COMING DAY AND NIGHT
The poems were coming day and night
They were overwhelming me
I was lost from listening to them
Lost and exuberant
Wild and happy
Then days later
I sat down and reread them
And one by one
They were lost
And I was alone
Without any poem
Where are the real poems?
What are these lines now?
Why is life so difficult?
And why is even a single poem of mine
To be remembered
Even by me?
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