There is a sadness
That stretches from the corner of life
Like a parade to the borders of the world.
There is a field, a few houses and some children
Who pause to watch
And then go back to their play.
There is a schoolyard and a yellow building
That crouches along a wet street,
Huddled against a dark towering sky.
A boy sits at a desk, safe against the rain,
The smell of fresh ink
And a soft cotton shirt, resting in folds
Against his skin.
At fourteen he is remembering,
While sketching at his place,
A young girl’s face above a blue and white fence,
Her light, brown body
And dark eyes hugging the slats
And searching.
He wonders why the words stuck oddly,
Like raspberry jam in his throat
And that when they finally came loose
It was only in embarrassed reply to his friends
Who stood there in silence
And she was distant and thin and receding.
There were no cocks that crowed.
(It was not morning.)
And yet could there have been a greater betrayal
Than when she made her confession public
And he said nothing?
There is a sadness
That stretches to the corner of his life
And although the blue and white fence
has since been replaced by others
He sometimes sees those dark eyes
And feels the tug of life like a wind
Rushing from his chest
In a whispered, dry regret.
Eric Peters
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/there-is-a-sadness/
