The snake skin scarcely shed
Just before it happens,
does the snake look forward
with relief, or feel vulnerable
to some strange force?
and when it’s happened,
is there a feeling of new freedom -
that’s got rid of that worn out thing,
so battered, scratched, dry, and cut?
I look in the shaving mirror
envying the snake
with no mirror, to which to sadly say
oh sss*** – it’s much the same..
poem by Michael Shepherd
Added by Poetry Lover
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