Mercenaries Fraternize

We are, sad to say, two practical people,
The sort who look two steps ahead to see
What must, and mustn't, be sustained,
Or started, to continue getting butter
On our bread, and, thus, though I believe
I love you, and believe (but without
Faith) that you love me, we can no more
Than pass close by and turn away, you
To the man who'll be your husband, me
To she who is my wife, but we do pass,
And we must meet, so here I am,
So far from where I ought to be, a drink
In hand, upon a chair beside a table,
Looking at my watch, but not, not even
As a threat, anticipating going home
Before I've seen your face and heard
You tell me how your day has gone.
You said you'd come, and I believe
You, said you couldn't stay too long.
A little while has to do. We'll talk,
But never mention love. We are, as I
Said, practical, and, sad to say, I'll see
You off without a kiss, to see you later,
I suppose, when we have had our bread.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 22 times
Written on 2012-02-08 at 00:44

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