Time was,she used to water them;
it was the best of times, then,
if not for her,
then for him...
for her it may have been
the worst of times,
staggering up from her wheelchair,
turban covering the radiation burns,
still trying to care for
all the neglected things
for which he had no heart
including, she feared,
herself.
* * *
1 comment:
Diane,
I tried to write for Carry On Tuesday (maybe the problem was I was trying on Monday). I wasn't happy with what was coming into my head, so I put my hand to doing something for Christine's Poetry Party. What an understatement to say that trying to use as many of the 132 words in something that held together was a challenge.
I like what you did with the COT lines. You've created a poem that is moving and also tender. How many times this scene plays out. . . how many times these are the thoughts. Too many.
As always, your image is perfect for your poem.
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