poetry

I am not Myself

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I am not myself. I’ve never been so,

My shadow and I just follow my feet

Down empty roads beneath the rusty glow.

In thought and solitude I’ll take my seat.

But have no pity, for I am not lost;

I can find parts of myself here and there.

Like here in the lone company of frost,

I sit with the dew drops, silent as prayer.

And I find myself in this little world

Of small falling leaves and a blushing wind;

Of tiny, wet flowers, glinting as pearls-

That which those with companions would have skimmed.

I am not myself, I’ll never be such,

But here and there, I can amount to much.

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