In memory of Stephany Shekhter who unsuccessfully tried to teach me to make my own choices
I’m not Emily Dickinson, with her vaulting refrain,
Her words like soft droplets of warm summer rain.
I don’t dwell in the silence where thoughts intertwine,
A beehive of children is a prison of mine.
She found life in the margins, in shadows, in pray,
While I gather my muslings in the buzz of school day .
Her verses were puzzles, and faulty not one!
While I seek understanding in the warmth of the sun.
Though I lack her precision, and her brevity's grace,
I treasure the moments that time can’t erase.
I’m not Emily Dickinson, but I still lift my voice,
As they say “In America we make our own choice”.
I am not Emily Dickinson
© Copyright: Нина Вольга, 2025
Свидетельство о публикации №125030408172
Свидетельство о публикации №125030408172
Рецензии