A Poem by Andre Peterson

It was cold over the harbour.
I've never once shivered this hard since Brussels.
Yet the snow had only just began to fall.
I stood there watching the ships passing.
Listening to the jokes and laughing of classes that poured into the restaurant on the bridge above me.
And then I looked up and see a young woman.
She smiles as our eyes meet.
But at this age I know my days would soon be numbered if I continued.
Now then, what is the cause of my despondacy?
Once there was petal plumes that bloomed under the moon when the world was weak and shy.
And after the centuries turn, when stalks burned under the sun, we made our days in different answers.
If only if I would have listened.
My hands are freezing as I grip the rail tighter in response to my own past faults.
Its time to take a step back.
As for years I've only been walking forwards into a blinding blizzard that knows no end.
I look back up at the woman only to see that she is gone.
No wrong doing here my friend, no wrong doings at all.

© 2020 Andre Peterson

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Added on January 28, 2020
Last Updated on January 28, 2020
Tags: Coping, mental health, poetry, poems, stories, storytelling, decisions, leaving, staying, growth, reflecting