ONCE when I saw a cripple
Gasping slowly his last days with the white plague,
Looking from hollow eyes, calling for air,
Desperately gesturing with wasted hands
In the dark and dust of a house down in a slum,
I said to myself
I would rather have been a tall sunflower
Living in a country garden
Lifting a golden-brown face to the summer,
Rain-washed and dew-misted,
Mixed with the poppies and ranking hollyhocks,
And wonderingly watching night after night
The clear silent processionals of stars.

Added: on January 18th, 2007 at 3:28 PM | Viewed: 3926 times | Comments (1)

Poet: Carl Sandburg
Poem: 26. Cripple
Volume: Chicago Poems
- Chicago Poems
Year: Published/Written in 1912
Poem of the Day: Dec 29 2004

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