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Thursday, 3 October 2013

A Borrowed Forever



I borrowed a little bit of forever that Sunday
As you pored over your notes
And with every studied look my way
I could feel you leaving
I pulled on my sweater
And took the dog for a walk;
Our baby
And to the crisp Autumn morning
I handed my tears.
Bright eyed I returned
To make you coffee
But you didn't notice

The elephant in the room that was me
You nod yes to eggs,
With toast
Just the way you like it
Three years and habits form easily
And opposite you at the table
I saw your chest as it rose and relaxed
And I remember my head there
With your fingers in my hair
And I thought how long ago had that been
Those forever Sunday mornings
When my lips read the braille of your body
And when hours were slung into seconds
And eternity had been a 24 hour clock
But  there you were still drinking coffee
And I was still eating scrambled eggs
And between us the silence slid into nothingness.

Copyright (c) 2013 Susan M. Wolfe
October, 3, 2013,  A Borrowed Forever