That Terrible Rasping Sound

One grows used to sundry annoyances:  gas-
Powered leaf blowers, mufflerless cars,
People at work who believe, without reason,
That one cares at all about with whom they
Live.  One must, in the end, become callous,
A duck, letting all of these affronts roll off
Of one's back, and I have.  I'm a mallard.  
I paddle past everything, almost, but there
Is one toxin my feathers can't block:  
My grand-daughter crying all night.

Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 30 times
Written on 2022-06-18 at 03:35

dott Save as a bookmark (requires login)
dott Write a comment (requires login)
dott Send as email (requires login)
dott Print text

Griffonner The PoetBay support member heart!
That would penetrate my heart so deeply. Above all things, seeing pain or anguish in loved ones, stirs my emotions and I feel a huge energy of wanting to give that person love and comfort.
It is no wonder you were inspired to write this fine piece, Lawrence.