Cardboard Man

Scales on eyes, I guess you'd say, depression
Drains the color from the view. The wind has gone
Away. The birds' songs are all that I hear. The
Oxbow lake out on the farmer's field is glass,
The trees along it mirrored in it. I am at a table,
Viewing what once would have brought me joy,
But, now, I'm numb inside. I drink. I curse my
Fate. I can't feel much of anything. A cardboard
Cutout of man, not someone anyone with sense
Would want, I think of calling you, but, if you're
Lucky, you won't answer. If you treasure
Happiness, you'll hear my message, but not
Call. There's nothing to be gained, believe me,
From allowing someone to place scales
Upon your eyes.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 124 times
Written on 2019-06-07 at 01:51

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