November 23, 2014

 

 

Like a trickle of water

that started the flood.

Like a prick of a finger

that released the blood.

 

Like a backward glance,

after walking away.

These things all start off,

in the smallest way.

 

Like a crumb of comfort

from newly baked bread.

Like a handshake, polite,

that stayed in the head.

 

Like a brush of the shoulder

from an accidental collision;

the anticipation there,

in the mind’s inner vision.

 

Like a first blade of grass,

from a newly sown lawn.

The workload to follow,

is no idle yawn.

 

Like a wish of a lifetime,

when young and a teen.

Like a tip of an iceberg;

the danger unseen.

 

 

 

 

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