Our New Home

They'll be taking the house. They told us so.
I couldn't find another job, and all the buyout
Money's gone. Boxes fill the living room.
They're stuffed with forty years of shit, the
Trophies that the kids had won, the finger
Paintings, this and that, the albums full of
Photos of us in these rooms and on the
Beach and in the driveway with our cars.
We always seemed to smile then. We took
The pictures from the walls, the paint
Beneath them still the shade we rolled a
Dozen years ago. The flower beds are full
Of weeds. Our son's invited us to Texas.
He has room. We said we'd come,
But, now, we watch our televisions.
Sherry has a wedding on, a handsome
Prince, a pretty bride among a crowd
Of kings and queens inside medieval
Church. She whispers, “It's so beautiful,”
And dabs the tears beneath her eyes.
I watch another couple answer questions
For a million, cash. We've packed. Since
We have lost our house, we've gone to
Live in dreams.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 13 times
Written on 2011-04-29 at 15:04

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