Finally a poem in Veronica's AP Literature class that she loved. She brought this home yesterday and shared it with me and I loved it, too.
Famous
The river is famous to the fish.
The loud voice is famous to silence,
which knew it would inherit the earth
before anybody said so.
The cat sleeping on the fence is famous to the birds
watching him from the birdhouse.
The tear is famous, briefly, to the cheek.
The idea you carry close to your bosom
is famous to your bosom.
The boot is famous to the earth,
more famous than the dress shoe,
which is famous only to floors.
The bent photograph is famous to the one who carries it
and not at all famous to the one who is pictured.
I want to be famous to shuffling men
who smile while crossing streets,
sticky children in grocery lines,
famous as the one who smiled back.
I want to be famous in the way a pulley is famous,
or a buttonhole, not because it did anything spectacular,
but because it never forgot what it could do.
Comments
I like the poem. Thanks for sharing.
I will never be spectacular to the world at large, but I want to be
"famous" to my family that i love;
"famous" to my Heavenly Father as I do my best to honor Him and keep His commandments, "famous" to my divine calling of being a wife and mother to my wonderful family. I am blessed.
LMH