A Guilty Pleasure

It is the height of irresponsibility to say,
“Let's take a drive,” but, dear, I have to go.
My birthday wasn't any fun. A two year-old,
A four year-old, a woman old enough, you'd
Think, to be not quite so headstrong and
Demanding as the younger two, conspired
To destroy the day, and did. They've gone.
I'd like to, too. A peaceful ramble through
The fields of corn, already going yellow,
Past some barns and shiny silos, over rivers,
Into half-abandoned towns with empty
Streets. I'll come back in due time,
Of course, and feel a little guilty for
Contributing to global warning just to
Entertain myself, but, given yesterday's
Frustrations, I'm okay with feeling some
Remorse.




Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 22 times
Written on 2021-09-14 at 16:56

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one trick pony The PoetBay support member heart!
The words "happy" and "birthday" become oxymoronic at some point. Taking pleasure when and where you can is a good gift to yourself. Suffer the guilt later?
2021-09-15