Pals

I hasten to place little landmines ahead of him.
I've never liked him. He doesn't know, and I'm
Always at hand when he's wounded. He tells
Me, “I'm glad you're my friend. No one else
Tries to save me.” And no one else so wants
Him lost.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 44 times
Written on 2010-09-01 at 00:13

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