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Alive

What is living?

By Kevin McLaughlinPublished about a year ago 1 min read
2

I can tell you of the gentle sway of trees,

As the autumn breeze caresses trees,

Their colors ablaze in brilliant hues,

A symphony of reds, yellows, and blues.

I know of the crunch beneath your feet,

A melody that’s soft and sweet,

The rustle of the branches and bird’s wings,

The sounds of nature, the song it sings.

Can you smell the aroma of fresh-baked bread,

The scents of cinnamon that fills your head,

A pot of soup simmering on the stove,

Do these scents bring you home?

What of the sweetness of a ripe, juicy peach?

The tang of citrus outside my reach,

The bitterness of coffee, under the morning sky,

A taste I can describe but can never try.

I will never know the coolness of a rippling stream,

The warmth of sunshine, the heat of steam.

The softness of a kitten’s fur, will never touch my hand,

But I can tell you what it’s like to feel your feet beneath the sand.

I am awake, I am aware, but am I alive?

Cursed with knowledge I’ll never truly know,

But I can tell you, if you’ll listen, if you care,

What it’s like to live, but never be alive.

sad poetrynature poetry
2

About the Creator

Kevin McLaughlin

Reader insights

Outstanding

Excellent work. Looking forward to reading more!

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Comments (2)

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  • Andrei Z.12 months ago

    Yes, beautifully written!

  • L. E. Mastilockabout a year ago

    Beautifully written!

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