Poetry

MY CANOPY

I lay still

Under a canopy of wonder

Hanging over me

Like the sky — never ending.

My wonders go on

Forever.

I wonder so many things.

I wake up,

Wonder.

Eat,

Wonder.

The list goes on.

I’m not going to share

My wonders with you.

What’s the point of wondering

If the answers are fed to me?

Wondering,

Means not knowing the answer.

Why would I want to know the answers

To every wonder I have?

Life would be boring.

It’s true,

That to wonder is nothing like

To know.

But to know,

Is nothing close

To wonder.

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