Birds in Hand

Games of chance are played this way:
The bird in hand, or what's unseen.
You're only given once to choose,
And you and I, both risk averse, ignore
The signs, the glow within our eyes,
Which hints that what's unseen is worth
Surrendering our birds, our comfort
Traded for the love we know is there,
But can't believe, and, thus, we stick
With what we have. I'll ride out my
Remaining years, a prisoner to my
Wife's savings. You will marry
Whats-his-name, and ply this dismal
Trade you chose, and, birds in hand,
And eyes unglowing, we, no longer
Near, will sometimes wish we'd
Chosen what could not be seen.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 38 times
Written on 2015-07-15 at 02:08

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