When I was a boy, and saw bright rows of icicles
In many lengths along a wall
I was dissappointed to find
That I could not play music upon them:
I ran my hand lightly across them
And they fell, tinkling.
I tell you this, young man, so that your expectations of life
Will not be too great.
Improvisations: Light And Snow: 05
Conrad Potter Aiken
(1)
Poem topics: life, music, young, great, play, bright, wall, I love you, I miss you, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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