poems

by William Bethea

THE ARMFUL – ROBERT FROST

For every parcel I stoop down to seize
I lose some other of my arms and knees,
And the whole pile is slipping, bottles,buns
Extermed too hard to comprehend at once,
Yet nothing I should care to leave behind.
With all I have to hold with, I will do my best
To keep their building balanced at my breast.
I crouch down to prevent them as they fall;
They sit down in the middle of them all.
I had to drop the armful in the road.
And try to stack them in a better load.

Sincerely,

William Bethea
DOC #000371779-D/684745

Categories: poems, William Bethea

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