Pygmalion Steps Back

I have this beautiful woman in front of me,
Foreign, silent. She may know herself,
But she is seventeen. Thus, I doubt
How well she does, and, since she's
Silent, no one else can gather but the
Vaguest clues. Not a man of faith
In facts, I do not simply speculate.
I will from her what I most want:
Her arms around me, lips on mine.
She loves me in her wordless way,
Or maybe not. She doesn't move,
And I begin to wonder whether
What I think I want I want. I came,
In time, to know myself, my sadness
And my uselessness, and fear that,
Should we share a love, she, so young,
So yet to be, would bruise. Then,
When she knew herself, she'd feel
The sadness I have felt, and I would
Rather she was happy all her life.
I look at her, and smiling weakly,
Ask if she'd like lunch.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 58 times
Written on 2014-09-01 at 01:04

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