Longing for the Restoraton of What Never WasWhose house had a den? I wonder.
Whose dad motored home from work
Each evening to a place brought spotless
By a wife in pearls and heels, who'd
Also cooked a pot roast dinner?
Whose own siblings ate that dinner,
Smiling, speaking so politely, having
Freshly combed their hair? Only
Those on TV shows, and in
The faulty memories of golden years
Which never were, but set alight
The minds of many whites who
Are my age.
Poetry by Lawrence Beck
Read 25 times
Written on 2021-11-25 at 14:49
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