the poetry of Charles Fry

7 May 1995

go find yourself.
Look in the flower bed
in the discarded porridge of yestermorn,
Look in the sunset
or run around the world to make it a sun rise;
i mean it's gotta be some where... or is it how?
ah well
oh well
do well
doing well
or even if not then ya can fake it,
make it up,
hide and tell the world that it's all okay somehow.
Mama'll believe.
it's like she might really care ore something,
like maybe she's just watchin from behind
an sayin that alls well,
but all the same shes holdin up a cracked mirror
so that when ya turn around
you'll see for once and be surprised a little;
could be that that's why there's a crack in it:
cause it's so old, an hey -- it's reality.

Copyright © 1995 Charles Fry