Existentialism

It's lunchtime where she is. It's nice.
I looked. If I was over there, I'd say,
“Let's go out to the beach. We'll
Take some wine, take off our shoes,
And dip our toes into the ocean.”
“Only once. It's very cold,” she'd
Laugh, or maybe she would say,
“I can't. I've got some work to do,”
And one more in a string of several
Thousand pleasant afternoons
Would go to waste, but I'm not there.
If I had any sense at all, I'd get up,
Stop this dreaming, and enjoy
The one I've got.




Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 43 times
Written on 2017-10-24 at 13:52

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



josephus The PoetBay support member heart!
Yep!
2017-10-24