Dominoes

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Dominoes

The dominoes were up,
Laid out for miles.
This one chose to cross my path-
I resolved to kick it.

And it fell-

As did the next one,
And the next one,
And the next one.
Miles away, they still fall,
And all shatter upon impact-

Oh, woe!

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A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness. It finds the thought and the thought finds the words.

Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

Legato’s Poems (3)

Title Comments
Title Comments
Fire of Fury 0
Dominoes 0
The Past 2