Platonic

It never goes further than this, and it can't:
I wait by the door for Kate to punch out,
We sit on the bench in the front to smoke;
After we're finished, we walk to her car.
We have worked together, and laughed
And joked, and talked of various serious
Things, and we look at each other as if
We should kiss, but we don't. She waves
As she drives off to be with her husband.
I relive the day as I drive toward my wife,
And both of us, I suspect, restlessly wait
To return to our jobs with the light.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 59 times
Written on 2018-04-24 at 17:40

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