Andrea's Garden

To what end would I choose to leave
Your sanctuary, Andrea?  To have
Somebody spy on me?  To find I can
No longer speak, or, worse, be killed
Or thrown in jail?  Our nation dies.
It's started stinking.  Here, the odor's
Far away.  The blossoms on the shrubs
You planted, and the sturdy wall you
Raised, and that long drive which one
Must make to get to here from anywhere,
Have set your home apart from everything
I'd wanted to escape.  I plan to stay, if you
Don't mind.  To what end would I leave?

Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 33 times
Written on 2022-05-11 at 16:30

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