How it is

She's asleep. That's how it is:
The sex, the sleep, not much
Between, but I'm peculiarly
Awake. I look at her, at peace
And lovely, knowing I'm a
Lucky man. She isn't one
Who'll start awake, and hide
Her horror as she quickly
Dresses, and then run away.
She'll stay. She has. We'll
Meet again, and, though
Attachments stand between
Us, we've learned, first, that
We can skirt them, second,
That we cannot be without
Each other very long. She
Sleeps. My lids grow heavy,
Too. She's mine to hold from
Time to time, not always.
That's just how it is.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 56 times
Written on 2016-09-13 at 18:04

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