There is always a doubt <br />Never quite visible <br /> <br />Like a coin thrown in <br />A muddy puddle <br /> <br />Rings of uncertainty <br />Extending beyond <br /> <br />One’s self <br /> <br />Where nervous hands <br />Falter and grope <br /> <br />Into nothingness <br />Where eyes blur <br /> <br />Trying to focus <br />On what is unsure <br /> <br />Am I the coin <br />Or the puddle? <br /> <br /> <br />(Senneville,1998) .<br /><br />Philippa Lane<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/identities-2/
