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Perhaps that woman over there, who isn't
You, will serve your purpose, and, thus,
Though you're far away, as always, I may
Take some comfort from another's nearby
Arms, and a voice softly murmuring
The pleasures and the flatteries which
Thrill me so when you are near, and, once
The bars have closed, and damp and frigid
Breezes start to blow, perhaps that woman
Over there will take my hand and let me
Lead her home to step out of her clothes,
And sleep beside me, and, in that way,
Serve your purpose as I face the fact
That you are gone.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 129 times
Written on 2019-05-04 at 01:17

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