Oh Purpose

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    Oh Purpose
    Oh purpose, oh purpose, tell me what am I to do?
    Should I reach high to grab my dream?
    And hold onto it like my hands are with glue?
    Should I reach over to caress a crying child?
    And hold onto until she is no longer with blues?
    Or should I plant a tree?
    And care for it like a one-man crew?
    Oh purpose, oh purpose, tell me what am I to to do?

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    A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness. It finds the thought and the thought finds the words.

    Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

    Von1’s Poems (3)

    Title Comments Submitted
    Title Comments Submitted
    Life without You 0 04/23/2009
    Oh Purpose 0 04/23/2009
    Sweet One 0 04/23/2009

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