'Glaring empty', by Lisa Mabey
I sit on the edge of your bed
and watch you leak
small drops
of life.
I anticipated doing things for you,
rather than this --
this waiting, hovering,
trying to interpret
what your heart mumbles
between slurred words.
Like a beachcomber, I search
for tiny wave tossed treasures,
then leave for home - empty handed -
and pray for the tide to turn.
Lesley-Anne Evans
03/02/09
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