I've reached a place, a modest one,
A long way from a pleasure dome,
A little shelter possibly, beside a trail
Which runs in shade beneath a stand
Of mighty trees. A little creek is
Murmuring. The opiate has led me
Here. Contrite, it can't erase my pain,
But it can seat me in this shelter,
Tell me things will be alright, and
Pull my head onto its lap to usher
Me to sleep.

Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 38 times
Written on 2018-01-29 at 14:59

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Sometimes nature can help with the pain in a way medication can't.

Anly The PoetBay support member heart!
You write in a way that captivates me every time... hard to explain the reasons, but you just do.... Thanks for posting!