The yard half a yard, <br />half a lake blue as a corpse. <br />The lake will tell things you long to hear: <br />get away from here. <br />Three o'clock. Dry leaves rat-tat like maracas. <br /> <br />Whisky-colored grass <br />breaks at every step and trees <br />are slowly realizing they are nude. <br />How long will you stay? <br />For the lake asks questions you want to hear, too. <br /> <br />Months have passed since, well, <br />everything. Since buildings stood <br />black against sky, rain hissed from sidewalks <br />and curled around you. <br />O, how those avenues once seemed menacing! <br /> <br />I know what you miss <br />sings this lake. Car horns groaning <br />in rush hour. Sweet coffee. Wind <br />pounding like hammers. Warmth of a lover. <br />Crickets humming love songs to the street.<br /><br />Deborah Ager<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-lake/
