At Least it's Something
In stopping to smell the roses,
do we still see
them grow?
or have they grown
still?
In watching the pot that never boils,
just to be certain
(of uncertainty)
In crying over milk unspilled,
a balance too
delicate
for the hand to
preserve
In risking the life unlived,
would we need a
magic feather?
(to weigh against our
hearts)
