Friday, 5 April 2013

Dreaming of Hospital Beds in Dinning Rooms

If I tell the air that I miss you
Will you hear it on the breeze
As it passes by?

Face towards the sun
We sit,
Remembering those summers past
When the day was long
And the nights warm.

This was all we knew,
Nothing else was needed.

Now I am meant to be brave,
Pretend not to notice the wind,
Ignore the chill
As it settles into my bones.

But I miss you
And there is this pain
Which refuses to leave
Because we watched you fall.

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