Cancer

Almost sixteen years ago, I left
The wretched suburbs, where the
Homes sat packed against each
Other, each one representing smug
And undistinguished affluence,
Each one painted earthen tones
To suit, not so much those inside
As those in judgment, close at
Hand: a dreadful clique of
Salaried drones and women
Driving minivans, and children,
Braced and full of privilege,
Suited up for soccer games.
I found a place of refuge
Here, behind a hedge and
Ancient trees, inside a once-
Majestic home, a little battered
In and out, but on its own
And on a bluff, above a river
And unending fields, and,
For these sixteen years, I've
Only had the ones I wanted
Near, and, after they would go,
I'd soak myself in solitude,
And pass my days at peace,
But, now, just past the hedge
And trees, a line of homes is
Being built. The suburbs have
Metastasized, again absorbing me.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 53 times
Written on 2015-03-05 at 18:54

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