Tuesday, December 01, 2009

Just Looking Round

We do not play on Graves—
Because there isn't Room—
Besides—it isn't even—it slants
And People come—

And put a Flower on it—
And hang their faces so—
We're fearing that their Hearts will drop—
And crush our pretty play—

And so we move as far
As Enemies—away—
Just looking round to see how far
It is—Occasionally—
Emily Dickinson 1830-1886

1 comment:

strangerland said...

Stand fast, good Fate.