The Waterfall

If you were to read my poems, all of them, I mean,
My life's work, at the one sitting, in the one place,
Let it be here by this half-hearted waterfall
That allows each pebbly basin its separate say,
Damp stones and syllables, then, as it grows dark
And you go home past overgrown vineyards and
Chestnut trees, suppliers once of crossbeams, moon-
Shaped nuts, flour, and crackly stuffing for mattresses,
Leave them here, on the page, in your mind's eye, lit
Like the fireflies at the waterfall, a wall of stars.

by Michael Longley

Comments (3)

The request which the poet had made for his friend's pity is supposed to have been complied with. Satisfied in this respect, he strongly asserts that he cares nothing what others may think or say concerning him.
............a most interesting write ★
Awesome I like this poem, check mine out