Incongruent

Why must we persist with these, our sadly
Bifurcated dreams? You are young and
I am old, and all you want, I realize, is
To be told that you're adored. No one has
Told you this before, and all I want, all
I would ask, in return for my adoration,
Is that you would hold my hand, would,
Someday, somewhere, by a fire, sit by
Me and say you'll stay to see me through
These dusky days. You won't. You
Wouldn't see the point, and, in the end,
You'll slide away to realize the
Circumscibed particulars of what
You've chosen for a grown-up life,
And I, without a hand to hold, will
Wither. I am used to that. It isn't
Fair to say you'll thrive, although
You're good at getting by, and I
Suppose I'll find a fire, sit in front
Of it myself, and stare until it's gone
To embers, losing warmth the way I
Have. I've given, haven't gotten back.
Two icy futures seem assured by
Bifurcated dreams.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 77 times
Written on 2015-05-20 at 16:53

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