We are nearing the end of National Poetry Month. While I haven't been writing much poetry recently, I figure I should probably post one. I wrote this about a month ago. It's called The First Time.
Sometimes
you notice it
when it happens,
so you try
to keep count.
You never notice the
first time:
after all, it's only the
first time,
so it hasn't actually even
happened
yet.
The second time
you second guess,
and you can convince yourself
that it still isn't happening,
even though it actually
just happened for the
first time.
Three,
four,
five -
each time it gets harder
to deny,
but also harder
to count.
Thirtenn,
fourteen,
fifteen.
And I can't remember
whether that includes the
first time,
because that was only the
first time,
so it hadn't actully even
happened
yet.
But at this point
I'm just repeating myself,
which I guess brings the count to
sixteen,
which may or may not include the
first time,
way back when it hadn't actually even
happened
yet.
Well done poem on getting older. Kudos!
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