Everything sublime is as difficult as it is rare. Baruch Spinoza

Wednesday, July 15, 2009

Poetry


Let It Be Forgotten

Let it be forgotten, as a flower is forgotten,
Forgotten as a fire that once was singing gold,
Let it be forgotten forever and ever,
Time is a kind friend, he will make us old.

If anyone asks, say it was forgotten
Long and long ago,
As a flower, as a fire, as a hushed footfall
In a long-forgotten snow.

Sara Teasdale

4 comments:

Homer and Queen said...

Great poem, how is the wrist?

Bonnie Zieman, M.Ed. said...

Yes, Sandra - how is the wrist? Is that what you want to be forgotten? Hope you received the news you were hoping for from the doctor.

Sandra said...

i don't want to be forgotten, but it's best to let go of the attitude i could get because i let such a dumb thing happen!

Bonnie Zieman, M.Ed. said...

Don't think any of your readers could forget you. We receive so much from your writings. If you mean letting go of an attitude of self-blame - that's probably a good idea. Stuff happens. Be well.