Thursday, January 3, 2008

Where had I heard this wind before
Change like this to a deeper roar?
What would it take my standing there for,
Holding open a restive door,
Looking down hill to a frothy shore?
Summer was past and day was past.
Somber clouds in the west were massed.
Out in the porch's sagging floor,
leaves got up in a coil and hissed,
Blindly struck at my knee and missed.
Something sinister in the tone
Told me my secret must be known:
Word I was in the house alone
Somehow must have gotten abroad,
Word I was in my life alone,
Word I had no one left but God.

- Bereft, Robert Frost

1 comment:

lauren said...

wait, i thought poetry was reserved for livejournal only :)

it is criminal that is so nice and out and we have to work. write me a poem about that. please. and be sure to credit me with a different picture this time. the last one got my bad side.