The Patio at Dusk

Done. It's night. All things are done.
The sun is down. What's left of light
Diminishes as we sit, silent. What else
Could there be to say? What else is
There left to do? The kids are grown
And gone. The better poems are in
Other books. The quests, which came
To nothing, ended years ago. We sit.
It doesn't matter that the dark has come.
We're done.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 56 times
Written on 2010-07-02 at 12:53

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