Ten minutes rest
(perchance to sleep)
is all I ask.
Mewling kitten,
tiny fists raised,
protests silence.
Calm pink, the walls
watch trembling hands
a pillow grasp
to hide red-blotched
despair. Patient
now, they steady.
Stillness. Cries cease,
but silence wails
and echoes. White,
my hands reach down
and lift you near
my aching breast.
1 day ago
1 comment:
That is beautifully made, Agnes. The way the sound and the tension continues the silence is a perfect example of what poetry can do. The scene moves behind the words and is bought to emotional life through the energy hidden in the words.
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