A Day Which Won't End

I'll plumb new depths of desperation
From this perch, something to do
To while away an afternoon of
Comprehensive dreariness. The air
Is cold. The sky is a reflection
Of the dirty snow which slowly melts
From trees outside. All the streets
Are dark and puddled. I am sick
Of music, and I've never liked to watch
TV. Sometimes, the righteous anger
Of my leftist colleagues bothers me
So much as does the willful blindness
Of the mainstream business press, and I
No longer want to read. I sit. I stare,
And desperately wish for something more.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 49 times
Written on 2020-03-15 at 22:02

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