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I Do Not Live Here
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I Do Not Live Here

Poem By Bernard Quest

This never was my house; you let me live here though,
And there will be, I know, new lodgers, one day.
It is not this, but the thought that I will blink
and never again find our crooked street
if only there to slink in half-light and peer
through shutters, so that he will stand and pull them
yet more tight against the shape that shifts waxy
black leaves of the shrubs below the windows;
it is this, that cracks me up.

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Comments (2)

Bernie, very deep, bittersweet, and with a kick of irony... Great write, Theo
every words has a meaning behind...and behind every word the key of the answer is you...nice penned! Mit fruendlichen Grüsse, Mary


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