Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Sep 2016
I died without my quota made,
The puzzle still unsolved.
I saw a pattern, pieces fit,
But never found an edge.

So death provided boundaries -
Beyond it was a void -
Except for what Iā€™d left undone,
Those jigsaw asteroids.

And so I hope that there will be
A consciousness out there
To pick up pieces that I missed
And make my life all square.
In the style of . . . oh, you know who.
Written by
Stan VanSandt
Please log in to view and add comments on poems