The Old Man Blues

I milled among the other ancients,
Leaning hard against my cane,
And looking daggers at the young,
Who wouldn't hide their happiness,
And made a lot of noise. Hooray,
The air had gotten warm. The daffodils
Were coming up. The redbuds
Weren't quite blossoming, and that
Pain pill I'd been prescribed appeared
Not to have done a thing. I ached.
I didn't like the wind. Shriveled
Winter creature I'd become,
I cursed the spring.

Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 59 times
Written on 2018-04-14 at 19:24

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