New offering from *Rosie MacNeil
nothing left to do.
Alone, wallowing in the last breath of hope.
The last shred of laughter escaping your lips,
time runs away from your reaching hands.
Like a small child giggling away, just out of reach
of a jokingly chastising parent.
Past beckons coyly,
he runs down paths well trod,
you follow though you know it will hurt again when he leaves.
You know every bend and fork,
all the hills you had to scale.
You can dance that dance and run the race again.
Take that kiss and wish it wakes you from your present,
hope you stir to find Past still lying beside,
still entwined in dreams you shared.
Friends, they used to sit round the bed
like a circle of boulders around the shrine,
I'm the offering.
The anchor for their youth and their prime.
We run along in their memories,
we're all just children playing.
Then time stopped.
Past left as I knew he would.
The dark, the silence, creeps in again.
Shadows of the hours fall across my face,
stillness on white cheek,
a tear channels trenches on its falling journey
down memory lane.
Please be sure to visit Rosie's special page at The WordSmith here:
Rosie's Reflections
Where you'll find more of her lovely works and links to CFS/ME places of interest and support.
