My Pledge

Whose happiness must mean more than mine?
Yours, lovely woman. I'll see that you're spoiled.
No sweet that you say that you want will not
Come. No piece of apparel will stay in its
Store. With a basket, I'll show up on spring's
Sunny Saturdays, one filled with wine
And moussaka and figs, and I'll load it, and you,
Into my Asian car, which will take us out into
The prairie and privacy, where we can spoon
(If that's something still done), and make plans
For our future, our good spirits twinned, yours
A little bit greater than mine.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 59 times
Written on 2020-03-17 at 19:00

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