Dynamism

Stasis simply isn't, is it? Nothing can be
Kept the same, and, thus, though I'd
Have been, if not content, resigned
To go on creeping up to you three
Times a week to see your precious
Face, to hear your voice and know
(Or was it that I'd told myself?) that
You, too, treasured seeing me, while
Also knowing that three times a week,
A couple minutes each, no touches,
Were what I could have. It was, then,
Not a healthy love, a quarter dose of
What, dispensed in full, would have
Brought life to me. It was what clearly
Couldn't last. Stasis hardly; you could
See, it seems, that something had to
Change. You slipped away. I've been
Adrift, but you grow ever smaller,
Ever less the one I've lost each day.
Another looms. She isn't yet the one
I see three times a week, but there
Are signs that I soon may. Things
Don't stay the same.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 84 times
Written on 2016-08-17 at 00:51

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