Poem Hunter
If You Forget Me
(18 June 1945 / Bradfield, England)

If You Forget Me

Poem By Pablo Neruda

If life a bowl of cherries
why do I always end up with the pips?
Why is it on a bright and sunny day
does it always rain on me?
Why is it when I go to climb a ladder
the one I get has no rungs?
I once had a car
that I used to like to drive,
others liked to drive it too
and they nicked it three times.
We have all heard
of the dive dropping birds,
well they use my car
to do their practicing on.
My world is so upside down
that I never know if
I’m coming or going,
nor where I’ve been.
So the next time you pass
a bowl of cherries
could you please leave a couple for me?
The pips are rather hard
and the stick in my teeth.

14 November 2007

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