Out the Back Door
Grey skies in March
as I walk through
the littered yard.
The grass is brown.
No one sees me
except the man
across the alley
loading scrap
into his pick-up.
We talk weather—
snow two days ago
today mist and rain
while we bear
the weight of our lives.
He says he’s laid off
but hopes to return soon.
I talk about lost love
and an empty heart.
We agree we want
to reclaim our lives—
the calendar says spring.
A heavy piece of metal
thrown thuds unto his truck
and he says
Another day another dollar.
I say
All the world’s a stage
before I hop into my car
but no one else is around.
On a quiet morning
bare trees near the ravine
at the end of the alley
raise their weary arms.
I allow a moment to watch.
Copyright © Mike Bayles | Year Posted 2025
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment