Fear


I resemble to a fruitless tree
On the edge of the road, you see
Those who pass me by
Are the passers-by,
Whether they are good or bad
Throw at me the stones hard
Being aware of me or not,
I'm a giant patient tree, am I not?
The stonehearted people
Keep telling us though
Hiding in their sleeves
Carrying in their hands
Leading life with difficulty.
But I'm very-very much afraid,
Of the stones thrown at me,

by Uktamoy Khaldorova

Other poems of KHALDOROVA (91)

Comments (1)

I can relate to this poem as it does happen to me at times too. Good one. Sincerely, Connie Webb