The GranddaughterWithout Ophelia's iron grip, I'd be inclined
To float away. My kids are grown. They
Don't need me, nor does my wife. I've
Seen enough of here and other distant
Places. I've done what I sought to do.
I've no will or drive to take up tasks
To pad my resume, so I sit, silent and inert
Until Ophelia comes to me. Then I'm brought
To my hands and knees because we
Have to play.
Poetry by Lawrence Beck
Read 58 times
Written on 2019-10-29 at 21:39
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