Never Truly Comfortable

I've been back to where I grew up, and it isn't
The same as it was just four decades ago.
The streets are clogged and rents are expensive.
The weather, though as it was then, doesn't suit me.
The mountains are nice, but their forests are
Crowded, and all of the foothills have turned
Into suburbs.

Meanwhile, I've gotten used to, no, fond
Of, the heat of the prairie, the low-hanging
Sky. Though the crowds here grow, too,
And the suburbs are looming, and everyone's
Neck is so red as a cherry, I have this old house.
It's a good place for hiding, something I doubt
I could find where I grew, so I'll stay. I'll
Complain. My new home doesn't suit me,
But I don't think anywhere would.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 27 times
Written on 2021-06-30 at 17:09

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