Where are you?
Yesterday you were here You were vibrant Normal. Healthy. Alert. Where are you? This morning you were here Having breakfast In your normal morning routine. Where are you? At lunchtime you were here Before your 2pm daily dog walk Striding over the Downs. Where are you? At supper you were here Before sitting as usual To watch your evening programs. Where are you?! At 11pm you were not here. Now. Tomorrow. The next day. Ever. How? Why? I want to tell you about how much I'm enjoying your book. I want to see you chomping your breakfast. I want to see your beautiful marked hands spreading marmalade on your toast. I want to see the way you gently shake the weatabix out of the packet, slowly, as only you could. I want to smell you. I want to see the bush of hair in your nostrils. I want to see you in bed, lying, as I do, flat on your back with covers up to your chin. I want to see your flat fingernails on your slow-moving rhythmically calm fingers. I want to hear your tread on the landing going to the bathroom. I want to hear the pressure of your hand on the door handle, identifiable as a finger print. I want to see your back, standing at the sink, doing the washing up. I want to watch you clipping your nails. I want to hear you whisper 'nite nite' as you quietly go to bed. I want to see you ho into your biscuits with your afternoon cup of tea. I want to hear you say quietly, gently 'on your bed Oppie' when she comes for a stroke under your hand at the computer. I want to have our 'non conversation' when I ask how you are, because you are always fine. I want to hear you say 'pruning the hedges' when I ask what you've been up to. I want to hear you fill me in on Ma's dog achievements. I want to see you wince, when I again put 'too much' water in the kettle. I want to share personal things with you. I want to experience your stiff upright hug. I want to hunt for conversation topics that interest you so that we can talk. I want you. Where are you? I love you. I know you know but I want to tell you, again. Where are you?
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Life scribblesLike paintings, words have the power to connect. I share my poems here with you in the hope that they benefit others. Posts
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