My friend gave me a jar to put on my shelf where I could place my most valued ideas. I should just screw off the top and there in I would plop all my thoughts. They would cascade into this jar of mine, whirling and spinning around.
But before I could twist off this top to plop my very own opinions and ideas, I had to listen to my friend’s thoughtless thoughts. For his are grossly graver than any wishes of miniscule me. Twist went the lid and out he let slid all what could have been my precious impressions and aims. Then all that I knew was what he put into my jar of a friend’s ideas.
On my shelf it now sits with the crumbling cork covering what I could never put in. My abandoned eyes gaze with an unworried head haze fixed on this sated jar. Shallow and silly it seems nay knowing ones own dreams. I’m watching others’ dreams spinning and twirling on my shelf in a jar.
No comments:
Post a Comment