Sun Sets In The East

by Ben Pickard   Feb 5, 2019


It struck as odd, one afternoon, as I continued on:
Why are these woods so cold and bleak and bare of any song?
Forgive me, for I miss a page in this unhappy tale -
In spring and summer, winter, fall, they're empty without fail.
Not only one, you understand, but every season through:
The branches bare, the foxes sleep - no life is born anew.
However, I accept my lot, and lose no precious peace;
For you, the sun sets in the west, for me it's in the east.

--

Ben Pickard 2019

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Latest Comments

  • 1 week ago

    by S.T.A.R.

    This page feels so cold, maybe you should try and turn it? :)
    I love the big picture this poem draws, many could relate to it!

  • 1 week ago

    by Brenda

    Ben, the winter blahs are very real and can be very hard thing to deal with. Everything seems gray and nothing brings joy. Nailed it!

  • 1 week ago

    by DarkNDangerous

    I absolutely loved this. Felt effortless, and the meaning i so familiar to me.

    • 1 week ago

      by Ben Pickard

      Thanks so much and glad you could relate.

  • 2 weeks ago

    by - Mr. Darcy

    The meter is absolutely wonderful. Poetry to my ears.
    Thank you for sharing your talent with us. Bravo.

    • 2 weeks ago

      by Ben Pickard

      Thanks so much, Michael. You know how I work on my meter!

  • 2 weeks ago

    by Em (marmite)

    Ben this here sorry tale feels like a page from my book...

    • 2 weeks ago

      by Ben Pickard

      You mean literally, Em or metaphorically? Send me a signed copy if you publish! :)

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