If I had to lose one of my senses, I would lose the sixth sense of inference, or drawing conclusions. This
sense allows one to understand unspoken messages communicated by body
language and the dangers inherent in scenarios like falling asteroids
and law enforcement. No longer would I need to worry about such things;
no longer would fear plague my now-numb consciousness. Indeed, I would
be free to act as I will. "Darn the consequences" would be my motto; and
on my tombstone, written shortly after my imminent death, would read
the words, "He lived so cautiously; he died so carelessly."
This wasteland cold and dark runs free Its fearful creatures speak to me One fateful day one nudged my hand To set my eyes upon a tree He knew I could not understand For I was in his native land His signs became our common speech To lead me through the deadly sand Now stuck I saw him me beseech He could not lift me out to reach The firm foundation of a cave Outside the boundaries of this beach Withal, the beast became more brave To risk his own my life to save To carry me, its life it gave To carry me, its life it gave. This poem was inspired by Robert Frost's "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening." That poem, like this one, has four four-line stanzas of eight syllables per stanza. Its rhyme scheme is AABA BBCB CCDC DDDD.
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