“I’m great,” I told her when she asked. I’ll tell her again tomorrow. She smiled, nodded and turned her back, my lips pulled back in a grimace. “How are you?” I asked from the hospital bed. Her lyrical voice filled the room.
“Same as usual—maybe better than that. It’s always nice to visit you…” She took her seat nearest the door and adjusted her floral print skirt. The silence in the room hung like a noose from a withered tree branch. “Any news?” she finally asked.
“I think I’ll be home soon.”
“I love you.”
“I know. Me too.”
[back to poetry?]
No comments:
Post a Comment