A Rumor

I'd heard, though not from her, that she is
Leaving, heard what seemed to be a fierce
And chilling northern wind, and I foresaw
What it would do: this pleasant little prairie
Town of tidy homes and shrubs and trees
Obliterated, emptied out, and I alone upon
Its streets in search of any sign of life,
The season past, the summer, her, and
Warmth, withdrawn, and, in her place,
Not anything, a world cold, and, shivering
And terrified, I begged the one who'd
Spoken to take back what I had heard.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 19 times
Written on 2012-03-03 at 15:47

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