Coward

Once more my heart is in my pen
wasting the paper and telling lies.
My brain stays quiet, but thinks: „Again!
Will there be an end to all the why’s? “

There I go and here I stand,
coward-heart is ever present.
Never knowing were to land,
never knowing what is pleasant.

And so I rest like marble stone
waiting for someone to show me the way.
But always and ever I’m standing alone,
my cowardly heart is whispering: „Stay! “

by Elizabeth Stone

Other poems of STONE (9)

Comments (2)

yet lovely poem, i like it,10/10, thanks for sharing
My friend a poet's pen can never lie, nor waste paper in search of whatever! Poetry is indeed the spiritual window to the soul. Please keep writing, and sharing. Thanks..