I'm About to Get the Flyswatter

Don't bug me, Ed. My life's a bed of roses
Now. Just let it be. The planet's other parts
Are hell. You tell me so, and that's too bad,
But roses blossom rarely here, and places
Everywhere, it seems, have suffered wars
And rotten weather since when I first learned
To read. I doubt that they will suffer more
If one who's had a little luck decides to shrug
And turn away, and, truly, Ed, my sole
Concern is she who beckons from that bed.
I'll go to her, I hope, alone. I'd rather not
Be bugged.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 10 times
Written on 2011-12-16 at 16:12

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