There are question marks <br />That hang like hooks, <br />And every now and then <br />That dot at the end will drop <br />Like a penny, another thing realised. <br /> <br />They are often just that, <br />Marks, imprinted on us; <br />Like scars, like wrinkles <br />Or like rings on a tree, <br />The age-old questions. <br /> <br />Every new generation lives with these, <br />Watches them hang, <br />Sees them on their skin. <br />Every new generation, another ring, <br />Widening the circle of thought.<br /><br />Way Lenn<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/questions-219/
