Like a Statue

Catatonic now, of course, the reason
I had had to move removed, I stare
Toward the fields, but do not see.
Instead, I sift the clues she left
Throughout the week: the tender
Smiles, pauses as she passed to ask
How I have been, her eagerness to
Speak to me, and also hear me speak.
What do I make of these? I think I
Know, but know that I've been wrong
When I believed affection was returned
By those who'd made it stir in me. My
Terror makes me catatonic. Only when
She reappears will I be how I used to be.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 37 times
Written on 2010-02-13 at 22:36

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