Number Two

Bob Marcotte

Number Two

Bob Marcotte

candle


Number Two


Pain sculpts your face


as your head gently creases the pillow.


You close your eyes and hope for sleep,


I sit near and struggle to breathe.


My impotence suffocates me,


I am drowning.


Life again weighs heavily on us both,


but we will lift it again. Somedays


I lift more, most days you lift it all.


Pain reflects between us


like a candle flame


burns the skin.


Yet we grasp tighter,


hand in hand. Tighter,


ever tighter.


Sleep now little one.


Like the sun, I promise to be there when you wake. Like


the sun my promise burns forever,


eternal.


Amen.




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2 Comments

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EllysGdaughter

Very well said and so lovely, Bob.

Casandra Porter

That was beautiful, Bob!