An endless game,
much like fooling myself.
If one game doesn’t work out,
you can always do it again.
It’s nothing but a simple
tile arrangement and a matter
of choice — who to marry,
where to live, to keep
or not keep a pet, which tile
matches another, and in which
order should the dominoes fall.
Do I push or pull, walk or
trot, live or stop.
And am I ever allowed to
rearrange the years, putting
the cardinal wind directions
ahead of the seasons?
Who am I fooling?
Wonderful poem! The metaphors, the comparisons, the repetition of the already answered question to end the poem on a firm foundation. Well done!
Thank you very much!
I concur with jrturek! The first and last lines are such wonderful containers for the poetic lines within… fabulous pacing and sense of tension in the rhythm. Love the questions and the metaphors!
Thank you very much! I just allowed the poem to ‘come in’, in a manner of speaking.