Some cocoons never open,

Some rose buds never bloom,

A bottle of wine can be admired,

Sold for millions for the right year, but

Without the pop of the cork,

Poured over laughter and a meal,

Shared with friends,

It’s just a bottle.


Some people are the same.

They live their lives cocooned in

Their own little worlds,

Tucked away from people, from hope

Wondering why they

Never breathe in deeply the

Fragrance of life,

Remaining only

Admired from the outside,

Held in high esteem,

Dusted and put on a shelf,

Never opened.


© 2005, Maribeth Schlobohm

All Rights Reserved














POEM-NEVER OPENED [Maribeth Schlobohm] ~ POEM          1


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