Cheerleader

I call her Miss Givings. She worries a lot,
And rightfully so. The world is dangerous.
We've read the headlines. We talk on the
Bus, and she tells me she wonders if she'll
Lose her job. She tells me of aches, and of
Family disputes. I say things aren't so
Horrible. I make her laugh, poking fun
At the people who walk on the street.
She asks how I'm doing. I'd rather not
Say, as I'm riddled with misgivings, too.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 20 times
Written on 2011-10-13 at 15:05

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