She May be Right

“All is not lost,” she protests.
I would not know. It's not
My nature to perceive what
Is preserved. She dashes off
To catch the bus to work,
And then she'll go back home,
And I, abandoned, hopeless,
Mope. She dashes through
The door and grabs me. “I
Can call in sick,” she says,
And, suddenly, I see her point.
All may not be lost.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 37 times
Written on 2010-01-29 at 14:51

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