Unearthed

A cop or archaeologist would see at once
How far I fell throughout this week, since
She's been gone: the dishes piled in the
Sink, the liquor bottles in the trash, the
Mail stacked up, as yet unread, and
Ashtrays outside, full of butts. As each
Day passed, my confidence in her, and
Us, in me, decayed. The end had come,
And I spent hours staring at the empty
Fields in search of reasons why it had.
The list was long. I wasn't pleased,
And then the message came, a couple
Words, but she had thought of me,
And I, so easy, rose again. I'll soon
Be cleaning up.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 79 times
Written on 2015-03-30 at 10:34

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