Thursday, October 31, 2013

More Ramblings from the mind of the SNOD

Flash Light Tag

You push me into my coat
and off the porch steps

I hear you shout 
as you leap frog over my head, 
and  start running,
blending  into the trees 
in the backyard.

I pick myself up
and I follow
you
tripping over my shoelaces.


Heart Surgery

In a hospital room,
you hold your girl
as they prick her finger, her arm, her heart.
and you calm her
and kiss her
and give her away to a doctor 
who is going to cut her open.

You smile till she’s gone.
Then you’re gone,
the you that held it together.

And I remember you
and me
in a hospital room long ago.
My eye cut open
by a sister and her bike gear
and I wanted you out of everyone else
to come with me.

At the Hospital, my first visit,
you stand beside me as they thread the needle
preparing to sew me up.
You held my hand 
as they patched the cut under my eye.

And now you sit in a room,
hunched down, 
holding your body to itself,
bravely waiting
for that baby to come back to you.

And I wish I was there to hold your hand.

To Paigie


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