How Did it Get So Late?

I know; we cannot go on as we have.
The world turns and darkens. Everything
That grows decays, but, dear, I saw us
Growing longer, thought our sun still
In the east, and dreamed of such an
Afternoon as this, so sweet and slowly
Moving, voices intertwined, ahead
Of limbs, perhaps? You're saying
No. You will not be here past a
Week, so we can't go on as we have.
If I proceed, I will with sorrow.
This I also know.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 22 times
Written on 2012-03-05 at 17:28

dott Save as a bookmark (requires login)
dott Write a comment (requires login)
dott Send as email (requires login)
dott Print text