The Great Divide

Her house, her parents' house, is nice, a view
Across the great divide.  We work together
Stocking groceries, beasts of burden,
But, next month, she'll be returning
To her school, and, after that, what does
It matter?  Mom and Dad are there for her.
She'll buy her own house with their help,
And never want for food or clothes,
Or funds to fix an aching tooth, while I'll
Keep working at the grocery, sharing
An apartment with my little sister
And my mom, and, as she floats above
Serenely, we, together, will be sinking,
Drifting downward with the other refuse
In the murk.

Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 37 times
Written on 2022-07-21 at 00:16

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Griffonner The PoetBay support member heart!
Oh my God Lawrence! That's an eye-opener of a poem. I most sincerely hope you won't be sinking any more than the rest of us, my friend. The great divide is getting worse as far as I can see.