top of page
![](https://static.wixstatic.com/media/41d000_a5a016c0c12e235dd871ab8041e8bc40.png/v1/fill/w_96,h_58,al_c,q_85,usm_0.66_1.00_0.01,blur_2,enc_auto/41d000_a5a016c0c12e235dd871ab8041e8bc40.png)
![](https://static.wixstatic.com/media/1b139df66088530b5cc39918a3c72bb7.jpg/v1/fill/w_81,h_72,al_c,q_80,usm_0.66_1.00_0.01,enc_auto/1b139df66088530b5cc39918a3c72bb7.jpg)
WENDY STERN - POEMS
![](https://static.wixstatic.com/media/3fb3d7_942a4461ce284845a8bf5ae76dca42b7.jpg/v1/fill/w_441,h_355,al_c,q_80,usm_0.66_1.00_0.01,enc_auto/3fb3d7_942a4461ce284845a8bf5ae76dca42b7.jpg)
Sometimes
Sometimes sorry is a dried up word,
Empty of meaning.
A pile of autumn leaves,
Shrivelled, colour-drained,
Empty of meaning.
We raise our hats to the unseen forces
That restore, renew, reawaken us.
We raise our hats to the unseen forces.
Sometimes,
Sorry is a dried up word,
And there is nothing to do
But wait...
bottom of page