As your frail body lies impressed in the bed,
I sit and look at your face and replay the past, With each flicker between your present and fairyland, my stare remains but my mind drifts to wondering if you see me sitting awaiting your presence. Across a man lies parallel to me noticing my awkward posture, A polite smile greets his glance, For he was not questioning my presence but merely resting in the open surrounds, How do you sleep in this chaos? The crowds filtering through at the strike of three, For if there were searches, I would say I was behind steel encrusted bars, Every eye felt like an ice glacier sinking through my rib cage and pelleting through my pulsating heart, Then and there with the next stir, I spoke. With the sound of my voice you raised back to the surface, Upon that second glance you identify me, The questionable greeting that led to your eye's filtering but not boundary bursting river, Each word began to feel shame, regret. Time has long lapsed since our last encounter, But here I sit on this navy blue puffed cushion by your side, Despite the ice glaciers starting to drip, their presence could not be avoided, For who is good at saying goodbye, not me. Are you?
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
Mary DohertyJust a blog to post some of the offerings I create in my spare time. I hope you enjoy! Archives
September 2019
Categories |