An October Evening
"Have you thought about what 'placid' means?," I askAs I poke at the burning wood, not to enhance the flames,
But to provoke a cloud of sparks to rise into the lightless
Sky. It's autumn, and the air is cool. She turns her face
To look at me. One half of it is fire red. The other
Shadowed, indistinct. "I guess it's calm, a state of mind
Akin to, but not, happiness." "Perhaps you're right. I can't
Decide." She turns again, and we are silent. I want nothing
More from life. A dozen souls are ushered in to sit within
My chambered mind. They hand their verdict to the bailiff.
Yes, my love is right.
Poetry by Lawrence Beck
Read 51 times
Written on 2018-10-05 at 01:56
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