Poem: The Second Life of Mistakes


The Second Life of Mistakes

Somewhere, six feet below the ground, she sleeps.
A stone marks her grave.
Not this one. Not the one that lies here,
misspelled name emblazoned on the grey block of granite,
smooth, save for a few carved words,
a perfect ironing board.

Few will ever visit the graveyard.
But this mistake, never wasted,
will serve for generations to come.

About this poem. 

Sometimes our mistakes outlive us. If lessons were learned, sometimes that is a good thing.  Take it from someone with an outsized number of mistakes in his pocket.

The gravestone/ironing board is at the Hancock Shaker Village.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s