Lawrence Beck Poems
The Gloom Moved With Me
The rain is different here from
How it was where I was growing up,
More vicious, with a shorter reign.
It wounds, but quickly moves away,
And then the sun begins to heal.
Where I grew up, the rain would
Stay. It didn't sting, but slowly
Ate away the hopes of those
Within it. I have moved, and
Learned the rain is brief. The
Sun soon will return, but, unlike
Those who grew up here, my
Hopes don't blossom when it
Does. The drizzle washed them
From me many years before
That would be me, in a suit, at a bus stop,
Going to do what I couldn't do long.
That was a future I'd had, but it passed.
Now, I shuffle among piled stacks
Of mementos, each a point plotted
In retrospect, reached on a map
Of a journey devoid of a plan.
I still own those old suits, but I
Don't ride the bus. I can't say what