In a Nutshell

Here’s a poem I wrote a few years ago…

You’re born, you cry, they weep,
you eat and make a mess.
You grow then leave as they weep.
You live, settling for nothing less
than: you wake, you bathe, you dress,
you work, you eat, you sleep.
And what comes of it? I confess:
You age, you die, they weep.

Author: Mr Benchly

I'm quirky. And a writer. Sometimes in that order. View all posts by Mr Benchly