Sorry Ass

Old and dull enough to have fashioned a life
That functions on its own, a series of narrow,
Circular paths, the sorts that asses walk
To bring their masters water from their wells,
I know that I will not be lost. She leaves today,
My breath of air, who hadn't strength to lift
Me from my tracks, but let me like them more.
I wish she didn't have to go. I wish that I
Could slip my harness, trot behind her like
A foal into a pasture filled with flowers.
This is what she made me see, but, with her
Gone, my world will return to dust, to
Nothing but the paths that I have known,
And I will walk.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 40 times
Written on 2010-02-25 at 12:49

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