Coasting

The feel of the pebbles between my toes must be enough;
The satisfaction of facing the sea as the sun plunges into it,
Seeing, alone, the bloody death of the beautiful day which
Was my own, and was wordlessly fine, is the best I can do.
I am certain of that, and, if others, elsewhere, tongue-tied
And useless, ever had hoped they could share this with me,
They have learned they were wrong. They must stay in
Their cubicles, prisoners of duty. I wait for them here.
Darkness descends. Though I wish that one had come,
I suspected that none of them would.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 42 times
Written on 2010-07-22 at 11:52

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