Thursday, November 15, 2007

The Phonecall

Through the glass
I see you struggle
Your back to me
Inside a bubble
Fumbling with the latch
In trouble

Finally, the window slides
And suddenly
Between the smears
On dirty glass
A reflection
Of your face appears

Your make-up runs
All black with tears

And all the ever-present fears
Of passing time
And winter years
Stain your cheeks
In fading sun

Her last remaining day
Has come

1 Comments:

Blogger Okami said...

Many emotions flood the mind with each re-read. All of them dark, embroidered with pain and wrapped in loss.

2:02 PM  

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