Gray
We lived well for a while, then didn't.
That's all. Our world grew shabby
And started to shrink. We moved back
To the city. We ate cheaper food,
And our bodies grew heavy, as if
We had weakened. Maybe we had.
Even now, having mostly grown used
To not having the things we once did,
We are quiet and slow, two old
People who wait for the bus you're
Awaiting. You hope its wheels turn
To take you ahead. That's not where
We want to go.
poem by Lawrence Beck
Added by Poetry Lover
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