Last Chance

Why do I feel
like an oakleaf
on a willow tree
rustling in the wind?
Like the hunt
for the end
of the rainbow
and a dying ember?

Why do I feel
like a snowball's
chance in hell,
like the odds to
walk right through
a concrete wall
and out the other end?

Alone with no control,
meaningless without chance
I am passing hence
And still at hope i throw
what seems a wasted glance



Poetry by Karl-Johan
Read 632 times
Written on 2010-02-01 at 21:08

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liz munro The PoetBay support member heart!
a beautiful rhyme flow
and well said.

Welcome to The Bay

~L.~
2010-02-02